


Note to Note

by someofthissomeofthat11011



Category: Simonverse | Creekwood Series - Becky Albertalli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24294244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someofthissomeofthat11011/pseuds/someofthissomeofthat11011
Summary: What if it wasn’t Martin that got on the computer after Simon? What if it was Garrett? How would that change things. This is going to alternate POV.
Relationships: Bram Greenfeld/Simon Spier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 231





	Note to Note

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know about you, this quarantine has really been getting to me and it’s starting to feel endless. Writing is one of the only things that gives me hope and makes me feel remotely human right now. For example, this was supposed to be a short one-shot and then suddenly it was 55 pages, so that’s where I’m at right now.
> 
> If this quarantine is getting to you, let me know if there’s any prompt/ idea you would like to see that could brighten up your day!

~ Simon’s POV ~

“Hey Spier. You got a second?” Garrett asks when I walk into the lunchroom. I know I look confused because I can’t fathom what he wants to talk about. It’s not that Garrett and I aren’t friends, but I can see Bram and Nick sitting at our table. I can’t figure out why Garrett would want to talk to me, essentially a complete stranger, and not one of his friends, whom he converses with on a daily basis.

I follow him to the hallway, and I start to get nervous as he looks around. Why doesn’t he want anyone to overhear us? What is he going to say? This feeling of dread fills me as if my brain is preparing for bad news.

“What’s up?” I ask, trying my best to sound nonchalant. He looks really nervous, and with every millisecond that passes, I think my heart beats faster.

“I went on the computer in the library after you yesterday,” he whispers.

“And?” I ask. I try to figure out if that’s code for something, but nothing is coming to mind.

“Look, I wasn’t going to say anything, but your email automatically loaded, and it was like I forgot I was reading someone’s email and not a book. I swear, I wasn’t intentionally doing it. Before I knew it, I’d read through a bunch of your emails. I didn’t know if I should tell you or not, but I know you’re not out and… I just wanted you to know that if you want to talk, I’m here.” He talks so quickly, yet I process every word as if he’s speaking in slow motion. It takes me a full minute to fully accept his words. I want them to be false. I want him to have misspoken. 

I’m staring at Garrett, as if waiting for him to say ‘just kidding’ or something. It becomes apparent that he’s not going to do that. “Oh… uh…” Honestly, I have no freaking clue what to say. I don’t think I’ll be able to say anything ever again, because my mind is completely and utterly blank. I kind of feel like I’m choking on my heartbeat, and I’m a little nervous that I’ll throw up if I try to say something.

“And you don’t need to, like, say anything. I’m so sorry for reading your emails. That’s really not like me. And your secret is safe with me. I promise,” he adds quickly. “I wouldn’t tell anyone, if you were worried about that.”

“I wasn’t.” And weirdly, I’m really not. Maybe if someone else had gotten on the computer after me, that would be a concern. But I know Garrett. We aren’t best friends, and I’ve always thought he was a bit of a douchebag, but I know him enough to know he’s trustworthy.

“Okay then,” he says.

There is this long, awkward silence between us. I feel like my head is spinning. I don’t know if I should tell Blue or not. It’s a terrifying thought because I really like him, and he’s the one that thought of nicknames and the one that wants to move slowly. This might very well be too much for him. What if it scares him away?

As if he can read my thoughts, Garrett asks, “so, why the nicknames?”

I shrug. “I don’t want to know who he is yet and he doesn’t want to know me… well, at least not names or anything like that,” I explain. My greatest fear is that something will get in the way of us getting to that point. I have to be so much more careful if I don’t want to get caught. I got lucky that Garrett was the one that went on the computer after me. It could have been anyone. I am never checking my email at school again. “And neither of us are out, so it was kind of a safety net for us. So that if this turned out to be a freaking catfish situation or something, our identities would be safe. Obviously, that’s not what happened, but I don’t think he’s ready to know who I am.”

“That sounds like it must be really stressful,” he observes. “Keeping all this to yourself. Does anyone know that you’re gay?”

I look around, and I’m grateful for the empty hallway. “Only Blue, but I don’t think that counts. It’s… I just want to come out in my own time.”

I don’t know when that will be. Blue and I have talked about it, and I think I’ll be fine when the time comes, but I don’t know. It’s so hard to think about everyone knowing this thing about me. It’s not even like I’m really afraid of how people will react to it. I think I’ve just always known this part of myself as a secret. Once people know, I’m going to have to relearn it. It’s going to change what it means to me. It’s going to change everything. I don’t want anything to change yet.

“Do you…” Garrett looks uncomfortable. 

“Do I what?” I wonder if I somehow missed a question he asked me because I was so caught up in my thoughts.

“Do you want to talk?”

I stare at him. Maybe I really don’t know enough about Garrett because this really isn’t fitting in with who I thought he was. “How about this? Let’s not talk about what you read in my emails, but let’s hang out sometime. I don’t really know much about you and I imagine you mostly only know what you’ve read. Let’s change that,” I suggest. Even as I say them, the words feel weird. At the same time, I loathe the idea that the only thing that Garrett knows about me is what he read in my emails.

“Deal,” Garrett says quietly. “Um… we should probably…”

“Go to lunch?” I suggest. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say when we go back inside.

Fortunately, Garrett feigns that he had a question about our Chemistry homework – it’s the only class we share that no one at our lunch table is in, so they have no way of knowing that we didn’t get homework today.

Throughout the day, I can’t quite shake this weird feeling in my chest. And I can’t put a name to it.

I still can’t put a name to it, but I begin to be able to identify it, the longer I feel it. I feel… almost at peace. Having someone know. It doesn’t make me want to tell the world; that surprises me because I always thought it would. I thought once I told someone, it would be like the dam broke and I would want everyone to know. But I just feel content knowing that someone else knows and can figuratively embrace this part of me.

It’s a really freaking great feeling.

~ Bram’s POV ~

He’s being weird. I keep glancing over my textbook to Garrett, but I can’t quite gauge what’s going on with him. He was really quiet at soccer practice, which is strange for him. He was the one to suggest that we hang out and do homework, but he hasn’t said a word since he sat down on my floor.

And he’s definitely not doing homework. For one thing, his textbook is upside down, and he doesn’t seem to realize that.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “Is something wrong?” I ask him nervously. He doesn’t answer me right away, and I can’t help but think I’ve offended him or something. It seems pretty narcissistic to think that his strange mood is about me, but he’s usually so much more talkative than this. Even if something is bothering him, he’d usually tell me about it. 

It’s why we work. I’m not oblivious; I’m known as the quiet kid for a reason. I don’t talk a lot and I filter way too much because I’m afraid of unintentionally offending someone or making them uncomfortable, but Garrett usually gets that. And instead of forcing me into uncomfortable conversations, he lets me get there at my own pace. Which is why he’s the one person that I can open up to.

“I’m your best friend, right?” he says after a moment. 

“Of course,” I answer immediately. And it’s true. When I moved here last year, I kind of retreated inside myself, and Garrett pulled me out. We were paired together for a Biology lab and he was relentless about asking me questions. I’d mostly kept to myself the first couple months of the school year, which he’d noticed. I’ve never been great about making friends – even at my old school, I kept to myself. I’d had one friend all through elementary and middle school, but we stopped being friends my freshman year.

When I moved here, my mom kept pushing me to make a friend, but the thing about making friends is at some point, you’ve got to talk to them and that’s never been my strong suit. I think Garrett was determined to make a friend too. A lot of kids can’t get past his first impression, but once you do, you find out how much he cares and how great of a friend he is. He’s the kind of friend that makes you feel like you’re worth it before you even know what it is.

The day after our lab, he introduced me to his soccer coach because I’d mentioned I played at my old school, and even though he didn’t know anything about me, he told our coach that she’d be an idiot not to put me on the team. I’d been mortified, but it had kind of been nice to have someone do that for me.

We’ve been best friends ever since. 

“And you feel like you can tell me anything, right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say slowly. What is he getting at? I feel like I’ve shared more with him than anyone else in this world.

“And you know that there’s no secret that’s too big for me, right? There’s nothing that would change that you’re my best bro.” He looks away from his textbook and up at me.

My blood goes cold, because there is one thing I haven’t told him. I’ve shared a lot with him. I’ve opened up about my parents’ divorce and the weirdness of my dad moving on so soon and random childhood memories, but there’s one thing I haven’t had the courage to tell him. There’s something that only two people in this world know about me: I’m gay.

I’m not ashamed to be gay, but I think there’s part of me that expects everyone to react like Tyler. Tyler was my best friend for years. We’d practically grown up together and we’d been together through so much – my parents’ divorce, his parents’ divorce, the fried Oreo incident, when Tyler was on crutches for six months because he broke his leg. I’d been so sure that we were going to be friends forever. We used to joke about what we’d say during our best man’s speech at the other’s wedding. When I came out to Tyler, he said it was fine. But then he started hanging out with other people, and he stopped having time for me. If he bothered to respond to my text, he would just say he was busy. It didn’t take long before I stopped trying and we stopped talking entirely. He never told anyone, but it definitely wasn’t fine with him. And I think, I just didn’t have it in me to fight for him. Just like that, ten years of friendship was gone. 

It’s what makes me so afraid to come out. What if that happens again? Tyler knew me for ten years; Garrett hasn’t even known me a full year.

I haven’t been able to tell Jacques about Tyler. Because I almost know what he’ll say. That it will be different this time, and I’ll have him to help me through whatever happens. I think I’ll believe that, which is part of the reason I haven’t told him. I feel dangerously attached to Jacques and if he jumps, I’m pretty sure I’ll jump too. He’s waiting for me, and I want to wait longer; I want to wait until I’m truly ready, whenever that will be. All I know is I’m not ready for people to know right now. I don’t even know if I’m ready for Garrett to know, and he’s literally providing me with the perfect opportunity to tell him.

“I… uh…” I can’t think of a single word. It’s like words are playing a game of hide and seek with me, and they’re winning.

“Okay. If there is something, you don’t need to tell me.” Garrett looks almost defeated. “I just don’t want you to feel like there’s something we can’t talk about. Like, maybe just because we never have talked about it, you might feel like there’s something I wouldn’t be okay with or would be an ass about, but I promise, whatever that something might be, I’d be cool with it. Does that make sense?”

My heart is thumping erratically. He knows. That was too specific to be a coincidence. I stare at him. I don’t know if I’m waiting for him to read my mind and tell me he knows, or if I’m waiting for words to come back to me so I can tell him myself, or if I’m just desperately hoping that I’ll suddenly wake up and find out that this is some strange nightmare.

None of those things happen. Garrett looks down at the floor after about half a second of eye contact, and my voice remains firmly lost.

I try to figure out how he could possibly know, but my mind is blank. I have always been so careful.

I don’t find my voice until Garrett starts packing up his school stuff. “I’m gay.”

It’s almost liberating. I’m not looking at him, so I don’t see his reaction, but I’m hyper aware of mine. It’s kind of like I didn’t realize I was carrying this weight until I had someone to share it with. It makes me feel almost giddy.

“Cool,” Garrett says. I finally look at him, and he’s grinning like I just gave him a winning lottery ticket. “Thanks for telling me.”

I chuckle. I’m aware of the single tear that slips from my eye, the product of my relief and the weightless feeling and a third thing that I can’t even begin to process right now.

That weight slams back to me when I realize something. “You knew,” I say slowly. “Right? I wasn’t imagining that or reading too much into it. You already knew?”

Garrett scrunches his face up, the way he always does when he’s uncomfortable. “Yeah. I knew,” he admits.

“How?”

He squats down and puts his arms on his legs. “You should sit down.”

I look at my bed, where I’ve been sitting since we got to my house after soccer practice. “I am?” I say it like a question, because for a moment I am doubting it.

He takes a deep breath. “Look, this can’t change anything, right? How I found out… you have to promise me that you won’t let it stop you.”

“Stop me from what? Your scaring me.”

“Just promise me,” he insists.

“Do you even know me? I am not making a promise if I don’t know the terms,” I point out.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Then promise.”

If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t do it. But Garrett has always been there for me. “I promise.”

“I read Jacques’ emails,” he says.

I don’t know what I expected, but I don’t expect Jacque to be involved. “Jacques,” I say. It doesn’t come out intentionally. I think his name is always on the tip of my tongue, and I just excel at keeping it there.

“Yes. I’m not going to tell you who he is, but through a sequence of events entirely out of his control… okay, mostly out of his control… okay, not really out of his control, but also almost entirely my fault, I read his emails. I kept thinking that some of the stuff from Blue sounded familiar and the more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn’t a coincidence that Blue is just like you,” he explains quickly. When he’s nervous about something, he tends to talk fast, and this is no exception. “Most of the stuff in the emails was new to me; however, there were some things that I couldn’t let go of. Once I realized, I went back and forth about what I should do. I knew I, like, needed to tell Jacques that I read his email, but I didn’t know what to do about you. There was always that slim chance I was wrong, but I didn’t feel right just, like, sitting with this if I wasn’t wrong. Once I told him, I knew I needed to tell you, but I also didn’t want to get in the way of you telling me yourself. I’m sorry if I screwed this up. I just didn’t know what to do. Like, you’re my best friend, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that, and I wanted to give you your space, but I didn’t want to go on pretending I didn’t know this thing about you.”

“Breathe,” I remind him. He does and it gives me the opportunity to think. I expect to feel angry at Jacques, but I don’t. I think if it was anyone but Garrett I would have been furious, but however he came across those emails, it brought us to this point. It brought us to a place where I could share this part of myself with Garrett. “First off, you didn’t do anything wrong. I think it would have been weirder if you kept this to yourself.”

“Thanks.” He looks relieved, like he thought I’d be mad at him. “And you’re not going to stop talking to Jacques, right?”

I bite my lip. I don’t know what I should do about Jacques. It makes me nervous that Garrett somehow had access to his email. Who else is reading his emails? “I don’t know. You have to understand that this is my thing, and I had this whole vision for how I would tell people. I’m not upset that I told you or that you know, but I don’t want anyone else to know. Not until the time is right. If you saw his email, how do I know that someone else hasn’t seen his email? How do I know that I’m not one email away from being identified by someone that could out me? I know it’s cowardly, but… I can’t risk that.”

“But can you risk Jacques?” he asks.

That’s the million-dollar question right there. “I don’t want to. I want both. I want secrecy and I want to talk to him. That’s why we do the nicknames. It’s why I’m Blue and he’s Jacques,” I point out. Something comes to me. It’s so outrageous that I’m tempted to immediately dismiss it, but it’s persistent. It bounces around my head, getting louder and louder. With every second that passes, I can see it. “Can I ask you a favor? If it’s too much, you have to say no, okay?” Garrett is looking at me curiously. “If I write a note to Jacques, could you give it to him? You can say no. I won’t be offended.”

“Of course, I’ll give it to him,” Garrett says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Are you sure? Because if this works, it might become a reoccurring thing and the last thing I want is to put you in the middle of something.”

“I think I’m already in the middle. Seriously, if this is what it takes for you to have this really important person in your life, nothing is too much to ask of me. I just want you to be happy.” He looks so uncomfortable, and I can’t say I blame him. I think both of us are out of our element with this.

“Stay for dinner?” I ask. “I can write the note while you finish your homework.” It’s weird, but I’m actually kind of excited for this. Just the thought of passing notes in school gives me a thrill of exhilaration as if I’m breaking some kind of rule… that may be the nerdiest thing I’ve ever thought.

“Sure,” he agrees. He opens his Algebra textbook. “But, like, maybe don’t forget to do your homework.”

“I’m almost done,” I assure him. “I just have to finish my History outline.” And I will, but later. Right now? I have a note to write. I open my laptop and pull up Jacques’ latest email. It technically came in today, because he sent it after midnight, but he sent it before Garrett talked to him. I wonder if he was going to tell me. I don’t know if I would if I was in his shoes, but that’s also assuming that he feels the same way I do. I haven’t even begun to sort out how I feel for him, but I like him more than I’ve ever liked someone before. We don’t talk about stuff like how we feel about the other, probably because we don’t want to complicate something that’s nearly perfect, so I don’t know how he feels. Maybe he does feel the same way; maybe that’s why he didn’t tell me; maybe he’s scared to lose this as much as I am.

My note is so long by the time I finish. I feel like I’m giving too much detail, but I can’t go back and edit a handwritten note without writing it all over again.

I hand my note to Garrett when he leaves after dinner. “Thanks,” I whisper.

“No problem. See you tomorrow.”

Then he leaves with my note. 

~ Simon’s POV ~

Psst. I look two rows over to Garrett. He looks at the blackboard, then looks back at me. Then he points at Trevor. Without looking at me, Trevor passes me a piece of paper. He’s much more subtle than Garrett.

Garrett mouths something at me, but I can’t tell what it is. I start to open it and out of the corner of my eye, I see Garrett frantically shake his head. He points at Trevor again. Trevor is holding another piece of paper. What the hell is happening?

The second piece isn’t folded like the first, and I can see the writing right away.

Passed the wrong one first. 

Be my partner.

Since Mr. Warner started almost three weeks ago, he’s had us pair up almost every day to work on an outline or answer discussion questions. We’re basically learning from the textbook instead of through labs and stuff. Our permanent teacher was put on bed rest and he’s her substitute until they find a long-term substitute that can teach chemistry (I think – I wasn’t fully paying attention when the principal explained it to us). I usually work by myself, as does most of the class, because how do you really collaborate on an outline? I guess I’m working with Garrett today.

Mr. Warner doesn’t take long to pass back our old outlines and collect our work from yesterday; it’s technically homework, but we always finish in class, so we never truly have homework. Then we’re given the opportunity to pair up if we want to.

It feels weird, being the only one that really moves. But Garrett has an empty desk behind him, and I’m surrounded where I sit. I move the desk so it’s right next to him and pull out the textbook from the rack under my desk.

“So, can I read this now, or is it a secret?” I ask him quietly.

“I want to explain something first.” He’s playing with his pencil nervously.

He’s made no move to take out a textbook, so I move mine so he can at least look like he’s doing work. “Explain what? Why you wrote me two notes?”

“I didn’t,” he says. “Write you two notes, that is. I wrote one. The one you read is from me, but the other one… is from Blue.”

I freeze. I am in the middle of writing my name at the top of the page, but this assignment might end up being credited to Simo, because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to focus on Chemistry again. “What? How?” I guess I’m a little too loud, because Mr. Warner looks at us suspiciously. I pretend to be reading the textbook, but I don’t even know if we’re open to the right page.

“I figured out who Blue was from your emails and I talked to him. I’m really sorry, but I told him how I found out. He’s afraid to send you emails now, so he sent you a letter,” he explains. My heart is pounding. I’m convinced that this is his way of telling me he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore because I fucked up. I’m surprised how hard this is hitting me, but I feel this dry burning in the back of my throat as if I’m close to crying. I barely know Blue. I don’t know his name or what he’s like at school. He’s just a guy that lives in my computer screen.

Despite that, he’s undeniably real. He’s been my confidant for two months; he’s someone who can really understand me. I feel this intense attachment to him, that has been a borderline obsession since we started emailing. I cannot fathom losing that.

I look at the folded-up note in a whole new way. It isn’t some random note from Garrett. This is from Blue. I feel like he’s breaking up with me, which makes no sense to me. You can’t break up with someone if you never were dating.

I tuck the note safely into my backpack. If Garrett reading my emails scared him off, I am going to take every precaution, so I don’t risk someone reading this note. 

“If you write back to him, stick to giving it to me in here. I don’t want to risk him seeing us in lunch or in the hallway,” Garrett says. “You both seem to be dead set on keeping your identities hidden, so I think that’s for the best unless you have another idea.”

I look at Garrett, hope suddenly filling me. Maybe Blue doesn’t want to stop talking to me. “He’s expecting me to write back?” I ask.

“Yeah. Did I not make that clear? He’s scared to email you, but he doesn’t want to stop talking to you. Unless you’re not okay with this.”

“No, this is fine.” It’s not ideal. I’m already thinking about the weekend and how long that’s going to be knowing that I won’t hear from him. But, it’s so much better than not being able to talk to him. It just sucks that today is Friday. “If I skip lunch to write back to him, will you be able to get it to him today?”

“Why don’t we do homework after school and I’ll get it to him this weekend? I think we might actually have Chemistry homework.”

I think I noticeably perk up when he says that. Not the Chemistry homework part. “You mean you see him outside of school?”

Garrett looks concerned, like he just gave something away. But he really didn’t. He seems to be friendly with half the kids in this school. He can hang out with any number of them outside of school, so I don’t feel like it is a particularly good clue for me. Maybe if I paid more attention to people outside of my bubble of friends… but probably not even then. “Yeah.”

“That’s perfect.” I feel like I’m about to overflow with happiness. Maybe this won’t be so bad if we’re not confined to school hours for our communication.

“And then you don’t have to skip lunch,” he points out.

I look at him like he’s crazy. Or maybe he’s just never been in a weirdly obsessive, anonymous online relationship before. “No. I’m still skipping lunch.” I feel my face flushing, just thinking the words. “I don’t want to wait to read his note.”

Garrett chuckles. “Fair enough. Then I’ll see you after school. Do you need my address?”

“Text it to me,” I suggest.

Through the rest of Chemistry and French, I’m jittery. All I want to do is read the note. It’s like I can’t stop visualizing where it is in my bag (tucked between my red and black folders - I’ve checked about a hundred times to make sure it’s still there), and I can’t wait to know exactly what he wrote in the note. He never answered my last email, and I’m not sure if he’s picking up with that or if he’s going in a completely different direction with this note. I just don’t know and the closer I get to lunch, the less likely it seems that I’ll make it until the bell rings to know what’s inside. It’s like, can I really be expected to wait another 5 minutes and 43 seconds before I know what Blue wrote? It becomes the only thing I can think about. 

It turns out, I can survive that time. And I practically run to the library. Before the late bell rings, I’ve pulled a thick book off one of the bookshelves and I’ve taken a seat on the floor in the back corner of the library.

My hands are shaking as I unfold the note.

_ Jacques, _

_ First things first, I’m assuming by now that Garrett told you he knows who I am. He’s agreed to keep your identity from me, and I’ve asked him not to tell you who I am. _

_ I know this is a weird way of talking, but I just don’t feel comfortable sending you an email. All I can think about is who else might see it. I know that’s not fair of me, but I can’t get it out of my head. I hope you’re okay with this, because I really like the idea of writing to you like this. Admittedly, going through Garrett isn’t ideal, but it seems better than me filtering my emails because I’m nervous. _

_ And what I want to say, I don’t want to filter. In your last email, you asked when I knew I was gay and there was kind of this specific thing that happened. And I want to tell you about it. _

_ I know I’ve told you my parents are divorced, but did I tell you my dad remarried when I was in the 7th grade? It was this whole thing, because my stepmom’s cousin was gorgeous. He was 22 or 23 at the time, I think, and he was one of my dad’s groomsmen. I was co-best man with my Uncle Phil and in the lineup, I was in between my uncle and my stepmom’s cousin, so we were standing next to each other the entire ceremony and in all of the pictures. And there was this one picture where the groomsmen huddled up; he put his arm around my shoulders, and I could just picture it. You know, being with someone like him. I know it sounds ridiculous because he was ten years older than me, but it really messed with my head. _

_ And then the rest of the evening, every time I saw him, it was like my brain was concocting these different fantasies. I was going to the bar to get a soda and he was coming back with his drink. He smiled at me and I could just see him coming right up to me and kissing me. And I mean really kissing me. Like I could see him grabbing my head to hold me still and… I had a very active imagination. I let it go too far and my body betrayed me – puberty sucks. _

_ I didn’t know what to do, so I ran to the bathroom. The last thing I wanted to do was get caught with a boner at my dad’s wedding. How awkward would that be? I was so horrified. If I’m being honest, that was the moment I realized, but not the moment I accepted it. It triggered this whole sexual identity crisis for me. _

_ Up until that moment, I thought I was a late bloomer. I kept waiting to be like other boys my age. They were always talking about girls and who was a good kisser and who would let them get some ‘under the bra action’. I just didn’t feel that way, not even a little bit. In fact, I remember being afraid at the thought of kissing a girl. It never seemed like a fun thing to do and, eventually, that started making sense. When I think about kissing a boy… kissing you, it doesn’t seem scary. I want that so badly. _

_ It took me a while to really accept it. I knew that it was going to complicate things and I didn’t really need another complication in my life, so I tried to make it happen. It’s like the more I tried to convince myself I could like girls, the more I hated the idea of ever being with a girl. I think trying to be straight was a lot like wanting to be taller. I could wish it, but that wouldn’t make it happen. And eventually, once I got past those god-awful middle school years, I accepted it and actually looked forward to the possibility of having a boyfriend one day. _

_ How about you? When did you know? _

_ Blue _

I find myself simultaneously blushing and grinning while I read his note. There’s this warm feeling sweeping through me. I reread the note a second time and my heart is thumping by the time I finish. I picture Blue writing the note. In my head Blue is Cal Price, and it occurs to me that he’s probably not Cal. I don’t think Cal and Garrett actually know each other.

I try to think of any possible way that they might know each other, but I’m blanking. I mean, I’m sure they're aware of each other’s existence – Creekwood isn’t that big. But I doubt they know much more than names. Hell, I sit at Garrett’s lunch table and until yesterday, I didn’t know much more about him than his name. Then again, Garrett is friendly with almost everyone. I’ve never heard him talk about who he hangs out with outside of school and I’ve never paid enough attention, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility.

It would be really nice to know for sure if it’s Cal because I can’t always rely on my logic to know for sure, but I don’t want to put Garrett in a weird position where he may have to lie or unintentionally reveal Blue.

Why does my life have to be so freaking complicated? I spend the rest of my lunch period writing back to Blue and I’m taken aback when the bell rings. It’s probably the longest thing I’ve ever written, outside of an English paper, and I’m not even done.

I don’t realize I’m hungry until I’m walking into Algebra. I resign myself to being miserable the rest of the day until I can get something to eat and finish writing my note. I’m just grateful we don’t have play practice today, because it’s Friday. Ms. Albright has told us that when we get closer to the play, we’ll have to practice every day and soon we’ll have Saturday practices, but for now, it’s only three days a week. Which is really convenient for me right now. I figure I can stop and get something to eat before going to Garrett’s or convince Garrett that we should order something.

Maybe food will make this less awkward.

~ Bram’s POV ~

I’m still half asleep when Garrett walks into my room on Saturday. I don’t usually nap but when I do, it takes me forever to shake the sleep and really wake up. I didn’t sleep very well last night because I’m kind of anxious to read Jacques’ response and Garrett told me he had it.

What if Jacques is mad? What if he thinks I’m being immature? As much as I don’t want to risk sending him an email, I also don’t want to lose him. And I don’t know what I’ll do if he hates this idea of passing notes.

The moment Garrett walks in, it’s like someone dumped a bucket of icy water over my head. I’m alert and aware of everything. I don’t want to seem overly eager, so all I say is a quiet, “hey.” At least I think it’s quiet. I’m hearing this ocean sound in my ears, so I’m not 100% sure.

Garrett laughs. “Chill dude. I know what you want. But after you write back to him, we’re going to see a movie,” he reminds me.

“Yeah, a movie. Of course.” My eyes are locked on the piece of paper in his hand. We will go see a movie, but right now, I can’t really think about it.

“I’m serious. I’ve been waiting weeks to see The Maze Runner, and this is the first time we haven’t had a Saturday practice since the season started. It’s not going to be in theaters much longer.”

It’s true. I don’t particularly care for the books, but Garrett had practically been raving about the series since he read the first book over four years ago. He’d been talking about seeing the movie for the last few weeks. We’d talked about going after practice one day, but we were always so exhausted after practice, it hadn’t happened.

“I promise. We will go see The Maze Runner,” I assure him. “Even if I don’t finish writing back. I’m not going to be a person that drops you for a boyfriend… especially since he’s not even my boyfriend. Who knows if he ever will be?”

Garrett rolls his eyes. “Are you going to make me say it again? Jacques was so excited that you wrote to him. Like, he couldn’t contain himself. I promise. He’s not mad.”

I nod. “Can I read it now?”

He passes me the note and takes a seat at my desk. He pointedly puts his feet on my desk and raises his eyebrows at me, as if he’s challenging me to tell him to put his feet down. He knows it’s going to drive me nuts, but really, it’s a small price to pay for everything he’s doing for me.

I try to appear as calm as possible as I open the note. I can’t help but smile. His handwriting is messy but legible. If I’d ever given thought to what his handwriting would look like, this would be it. It seems very Jacques.

_ Blue, _

_ I think it’s more than fair that you don’t feel comfortable sending me an email. I’m a freaking idiot. I really should have been more careful. I’m so, so sorry. I still can’t believe I forgot to log off the school computer. I swear it was just that one time and it will never happen again. Not that it matters, I guess. I’m just really freaking happy that you’re still talking to me. I was really nervous that you’d stop once you found out someone read our emails. If this is what it takes, I’m 100% on board with writing notes. I actually kinda like this. _

_ That was a pretty sexy story, Blue. I can’t even imagine. That sounds like such a big moment. I mean, for sure it sounds horrifying. I think puberty hits you hard no matter who you are. It’s one nightmare after another. I’m curious, have you seen him since your dad’s wedding? _

_ I guess for me, there wasn’t a specific moment where I was like, “oh, so I’m gay”. I don’t remember ever not knowing, if that makes sense. Like I know I didn’t think of these things when I was young, so I know there must have been a point where I had the thought that I’m gay for the first time, but I don’t know when that was.  _

_ There are a couple of things that really confirmed it for me. I was obsessed with Daniel Radcliffe for a while. I thought it was just because I loved Harry Potter, but I realized pretty quickly that it went way beyond that. And I loved Passion Pit; it didn’t take me long to understand that it wasn’t about their music. _

_ I guess if I had to pick the earliest time I remember just knowing, I’d have to pick this middle school dance. I somehow had a girlfriend. I’m still not sure how it happened. I’m pretty sure she told me I was her boyfriend, and I didn’t know what to do. I had to go to the dance with her, but I ended up spending most of the dance under the bleachers, eating Fritos with my friends. We were watching middle school students try to slow dance to those lame fast songs they play at middle school dances. It wasn’t like there was a lot of real dancing happening. It was what we thought dancing was until we learned better. Then her friend came to find me and told me she was waiting for me at the front of the gym. Apparently, I was supposed to go make out with her in that middle school way. It freaked me out so much that I ran to the bathroom. And hid in the stall until the dance was over. Until my mom came to pick me up. I kid you not. Like a little kid that didn’t want to leave a playdate. If all of that isn’t bad enough, it was Valentine’s Day. Clearly, I’m boyfriend of the year right here. _

_ If I’m being honest, I knew for sure then. Even though I’ve had two girlfriends since then. If I had to choose a moment, that would be it, even though it wasn’t new to me. I don’t know if I’m making any sense here. _

_ Blue, I’ve got to say something. I’m so glad that you didn’t have to filter all of that. I know it was a nightmare and cringy, but I loved every word, and I can’t imagine any of it being left out. _

_ I can’t believe I’ve written so much. I write English papers that are shorter than this. I think this might be the longest thing I’ve ever sent to anyone. Appreciate this, Blue. Not many people get more than 140 characters from me. That’s kind of awesome, right? _

_ Eagerly awaiting your reply, _

_ Jacques _

I can feel Garrett staring at me when I finish reading the note, but I can’t wipe the smile off my face. I don’t think I want to. I feel like I could fly right now if I tried to. 

“What time is the movie?” I wonder if I sound as strange to him as I do to myself.

“2:10,” he tells me.

I look at my clock. We have just over an hour until we have to leave.

As I’m writing, it occurs to me that I really haven’t been a very good friend lately. Garrett’s sitting at my desk and is playing on his phone, so I can respond to Jacques’ note. Since I came out to him, everything has kind of revolved around me and Jacques. It’s only been a few days, but it’s enough to make me uncomfortable.

Maybe making myself wait a few hours to finish the note will be a good thing because it takes a considerable effort to put the note aside. I almost feel like I’m addicted to Jacques. He makes me feel full, warm, and needed, and I crave those feelings. But that can’t be all there is to my life. Just because we have this new method of talking doesn’t mean my old rules don’t apply. I need a balance. So I focus on Garrett, and we talk about soccer and The Maze Runner and the fact that his parents finally decided to go to Homecoming Weekend at his older brother’s college for his senior year. They’d been going back and forth about it, because he goes to school in California and it’s going to be a full weekend trip.

When we get back to my house, I expect Garrett to drop me off, but instead, he follows me in. I’m confused until he finds my mom, reading in the living room, and walks up to her. “Hey Mrs. Greenfeld. You’re looking awfully young and beautiful lately. How are you?” he asks. He has this huge smile on his face.

“What do you want?” She doesn’t even look up from the book she’s reading.

“I’m throwing a Halloween party in two weeks, and I was wondering if you’d be okay with Bram coming?” he asks. I look at him surprised. Why is he going to my mom and not me? Probably because he knows I would say no. I really wish my mom would look up, so she can see how desperately I’m shaking my head at her. I hate parties. I’d been to one at my old school and it had been so overwhelming. There had been so many people, some that didn’t even go to my school, and everyone was drunk. I had my first sip of beer and thought I was going to projectile vomit; it tasted disgusting. I think I lasted maybe five minutes before I found a quiet spot in the backyard and waited out the party.

“He’s staying the night. I’m not going to spend my night worrying about him drinking and then finding a way home,” she tells him. I stare. Why is she being so calm about this?

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? I know you have your work thing and I’m supposed to be giving candy out,” I say. I hope she’ll pick up on my nonverbal plea.

“I’m sure. I trust you. I trust Garrett. We can put a bowl out with candy,” she says.

“You know it’s going to take maybe 5 kids before it’s all gone,” I point out. Garret is glaring at me, but I don’t care.

My mom puts her bookmark in her book and stands up. “You know, I don’t want to encourage anything that will get you in trouble, but… you spend so much time cooped up in this house. You’re sixteen; at some point you need to start living your life. When I was sixteen, I was almost never home. I’m not saying that’s what I want for you, but I want you to experience things. I don’t want you to hold yourself back.”

I look down at the floor. Something about her words is making my chest feel tight and makes me wish the floor was made of quicksand. I don’t know where the sudden urge to escape comes from, but she seems to have triggered my fight or flight instincts.

“You’re too much like your dad, you know,” she tells me quietly.

I look at her surprised. It never occurred to me that I might be like my dad. 

“Am I?” I ask her uncertainly. I feel like we’re polar opposites. We never know how to talk to each other, and there’s always this endless amount of small talk and awkward silence when we’re together. I always thought that happened because we simply didn’t have anything in common. But, maybe he’s the same as me. Maybe he has trouble saying things because he overthinks everything.

She looks at me thoughtfully. “You are truly your father’s son.” She glances at Garrett and shrugs. She clearly has more she’d like to say, but we don’t really talk about things like this, and we definitely don’t talk about them in front of other people.

I look over at him. “I’ll call you later?” I say uncertainly.

He nods. “Talk to you later. Bye, Mrs. Greenfeld,” he says. He escapes pretty quickly, so I’m guessing he was uncomfortable.

Once he leaves, I sit down on the opposite side of the couch and face her. She puts her book aside and turns so she’s sitting cross-legged facing me.

“When you were younger, I kept trying to find myself in you. Even when you were little, you were so careful and thoughtful about everything. I was so impulsive and carefree as a child, and I carried that with me until I was in med school. I used to say that I was fabulous and fearless.” She chuckles and I can picture that. It sounds like her. “When I met your father, he was everything I never was. I don’t think I really grew up until we found out I was pregnant with you, but your father… he was born an adult. And so were you. You’ve always taken things so seriously. It’s one of the things I love about you the most and I’m so proud of the young man you’ve become, but sometimes I worry that it gets in the way. Your father always said that I taught him how to live his life and I want that for you. Some of my best memories with your father came from when we pushed each other out of our comfort zones. When I got him to be spontaneous; when he got me to have a quiet night at home. I want you to feel comfortable to try new things and make mistakes and be who you are. I don’t want you to be afraid to show the world what you have to offer because you have so much to offer this world,” she says quietly. We seldom talk like this, and by seldom, I mean never. I think the last time we had a genuine conversation that wasn’t school or soccer related was when my dad was getting remarried. I don’t know how we somehow went from Garrett’s Halloween party to this, but here we are.

There’s this long pause and I’m painfully aware of how this would be the perfect opportunity to come out to her. I’m surprised by how much I want to tell her. Like, I feel like if I don’t tell her, I’m going to physically combust. It’s pressing against my chest. I can almost hear my heartbeat chanting, tell her, tell her, tell her.

I can’t find the words. Or, I can find them, but I’m having a lot of trouble getting my mouth to move to say the words. The reality of what I’m about to do, and I am going to do it, is hitting me hard. 

Once the words are out, I can never take them back. It’s terrifying and exhilarating. As much as I want to tell my mom and as much as I want her to know, I wish I could skip this part and fast forward to her knowing… preferably to her knowing and still loving me.

“Mom,” I say. My voice is shaky, and I feel a single tear fall down my cheek. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Honey,” she says softly.

I’m actually shaking. I’ve never felt like this before, but the knowledge that everything is about to change is overwhelming. Maybe I’m more like my mom than she gives herself credit for because I am about to do something that I think is very brave. “I’m gay.”

“Okay,” she says softly. When I look up at her, I see tears in her eyes. I don’t know if they’re good tears or bad tears. It instantly makes me look away. I feel like I’m holding my breath while I wait for her to say something. She stands up and tilts my head so I’m looking at her. “I love you so much. You will always be my baby, and I am so proud of you.” She hugs me tight and I think that maybe everything is okay. She sits back down. “This is your thing. We’ll talk about safe sex and the like soon, but right now, do you want to talk about it?”

I look at her surprised. I don’t really know what I was expecting; maybe for her to have a bunch of questions or something. I hadn’t really planned to do this and that’s catching up with me right now. “I don’t know,” I admit. I don’t know if I want to talk about it. I don’t know what I’d say if I did want to talk.

She looks thoughtful. “Okay, we don’t need to talk about it. If you ever want to, just know, you can,” she says quietly. Like a switch flips, she sits up straight and gets that doctor-look on her face. “There is something we need to talk about. It’s important to be safe if you’re sexually active. Too many kids don’t take sex seriously enough and even if you aren’t at risk for getting a partner pregnant, the risk of contracting an STD is still there. You need to use condoms every time. Even for oral sex.”

“Please. Stop.” I close my eyes, hoping that when I open them, I’ll be somewhere else and won’t have to listen to my mom talk about sex. Nope. This is still happening. “I’m not having sex.” She looks skeptical. “I swear. I’m not having sex. I have no plans to change that anytime in the near future.”

She still looks skeptical. I can’t fathom why she doesn’t believe me. It’s not like people are lining up to try to have sex with me, and she’s the one that just pointed out that I spend all my time home. “All the same. Even if you aren’t currently, it’s very likely that you will become sexually active. And you need to be prepared to take those precautions. Heaven knows that sex isn’t always planned and maybe you won’t end up with a baby after a romantic anniversary when you’re in med school, but maybe after a drink on Halloween or on Valentine’s Day or just a random day, something could happen.”

“Oh my God. Please make this end.” Maybe I’ll just disappear and reappear far, far away from here. I worry that I’m getting dangerously close to her reliving the night I was conceived… again. That’s right. Again. She told me all about it during our very first sex talk as proof that you can be safe and still have unexpected consequences. She went on to tell me that they were very lucky that they were able to financially support me and love me the way I “deserved to be loved” but that it could have been much more difficult for all of us.

She chuckles. “I’m sorry. I know this makes you uncomfortable. Another thing you and your father have in common. I hope you know that I only talk about this because I want you to be safe,” she reminds me.

“I know. And I will be. Can we stop talking about this?” I ask.

“I have to ask one more thing and whatever you say, I’ll believe you,” she tells me. I feel incredibly anxious. Is she going to ask me if I have a boyfriend? Will it be a lie if I say no? I mean, Jacques isn’t technically my boyfriend, and I don’t even know who he is, but he feels like he’s something. I just don’t know if I’m ready to talk to my mom about boys, and I don’t want to make her feel bad by not talking about it. All my worrying is apparently for nothing. “You and Garrett.”

“Just friends,” I promise.

“Okay,” she says simply.

The weightless feeling hits me hours later as I’m getting ready to go to bed. I find myself smiling up at my ceiling, surrounded by complete darkness. I know there are still people to tell, but it feels right that I told her today. It feels like such a victory.

~ Simon’s POV ~

I finally get Blue’s note Tuesday in Chemistry. It kind of stinks that we have to wait so long between notes. At least with email, we could talk every day. It’s hard not to be frustrated with myself when I know I’m the reason we can’t do that anymore.

It’s all worth it when I get his note. I don’t get to read it until after play practice and my day seems to crawl by. I actually can’t sit still knowing that his note is sitting in my bag, just waiting to be read.

I end up reading it in my car after practice, because I cannot wait the five-minute drive it will take me to get home. Well, I probably could wait, but I really don’t want to.

_ Jacques, _

_ I think that’s definitely kind of awesome. I’m flattered that I’m the only one. It’s funny, because I feel the same about you. You’re the only one that I talk to this much or talk about this stuff with. I think I spend most of my time talking without really talking about anything, if that makes any sense. It’s like my safety net. _

_ For what it’s worth, I think it would be really sad if your proudest moment happened at a middle school Valentine’s Day dance. Though, you can’t fool me by calling music lame. I bet middle school Jacques loved to pop and lock it, right?  _

_ I remember hating middle school so much, and then hating it so much more when I was in high school. Because when you’re in middle school, it’s just like you hate everyone and everything, but then you get to high school and you realize you didn’t hate everyone else; you just hated yourself. Or maybe that’s just me. Don’t even get me started on the middle school drama. I felt like I couldn’t keep up with who was dating who and who hated who and what rumors were true. Then there was that middle school reaction of “ummm… okaaaaaaay.” It’s like everyone, even your friends, needed you to know that you were completely alone in how you felt. _

_ The worst part is, I did it too – even with my best friend. So basically, I think you should give yourself a break. No one is their best self in middle school. I mean, how sad would it be to peak at thirteen? _

_ To answer your question, I see him a couple of times a year. My stepmom seems to have a lot of family reunions, and my dad tries to get me to go to them as much as possible. It’s so weird because it all happened in my head… well, mostly. But he didn’t know that he triggered this huge sexual identity crisis in me. So, for him, I think I’m just his cousin’s weird stepson. _

_ If you don’t mind my asking, how did you end up with two other girlfriends if you knew you were gay? I don’t want that to sound judgy; I’m just curious. _

_ I can’t believe I’m writing this, but I came out to my mom. I’m almost shaking just from writing it down on paper. It’s so surreal to me that I’m able to say that, but there was this perfect opportunity where my mom told me how proud she was of me. I just found myself really wanting to tell her, so I did. I didn’t have time to plan or practice, which is so unlike me. Am I crazy for doing that? _

_ Blue _

I can’t believe it. He is literally perfect. My entire ride home, I can’t get my mind off of what he told me. He came out to his mom. He’d once told me he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be brave enough to come out to his parents, but he constantly proves that he’s so much braver than he realizes.

Garrett texts me while I’m still in the parking lot.  _ Life Olympics part 2? _

I chuckle to myself. I’d expected hanging out with Garrett to be really awkward and forced but when we hung out last Friday, I found out that he’s freaking hilarious. He was really excited to have someone that he could complain about siblings with. And the more we talked, the more we got slightly competitive about who has the crazier memories, family, friends, etc. Thus, we created the life Olympics, which is not at all like it sounds like. It was just our weird way of talking about some of our weird traditions or memories.

I learn so much about Garrett this way. Firstly, he’s about as dramatic as I am, so watching him reenact crazy family memories is the best thing I’ve ever seen. Both of his parents had previously been married and each had a kid before they were married. So, Garrett has an older half-sister and an older half-brother that are twenty-seven and nineteen years older than him respectively. Then, when his parents got married, they had Garrett’s older brother and then six years later, had Garrett. Garrett is like two months older than his oldest nephew, which kind of blows my mind. I feel bad being so intrigued by his family because I guess it shouldn’t seem so strange to me, but the dynamic of having half-siblings that were adults and living away from home by the time he was born, is fascinating. As the night wore on, we started to tell stories through charades, which may be the greatest thing Garrett has ever thought of.

I’d thought that the only time I could feel that carefree was with Nick and Leah, but it happens when I’m goofing off with Garrett as well.

So, it’s easy for me to text him back and say,  _ you’re on. Your house or mine? _

I’m kind of hoping he’ll say my house so I can start writing back to Blue while I’m waiting for him. Garrett must be a freaking mind reader.  _ Why don’t we do yours this time? _

My answer is almost instantaneous.  _ Perfect. _

When I get home, no one is here. I guess my parents are still working and who the hell knows what Nora is up to nowadays, so I text my mom to let her know Garrett is coming over as I head to my bedroom.

I glance around my bedroom. I don’t think it’s egregiously messy. And judging by Garrett’s bedroom, I don’t think he’s going to be fazed by my bedroom.

I take a seat at my desk and reread Blue’s note. Even though I know everything he wrote, my stomach still twists into knots as I read it. Reading about him coming out to his mom makes me feel a little braver. I’m nowhere near ready to come out to my parents – they’re going to make this such a big thing, and I’m not ready for this to be a big deal yet. Instead, my mind is on Nick, Leah, and Abby.

I don’t know how to tell them though. Nick and Leah have known me forever. They, like my family, will have to reconcile what they know about me – the girlfriends and my awkward elementary and middle school phases – with who I am now. It’s a daunting task. I don’t know if they are ready for that, but I also don’t know if I’m making excuses for myself. It seems like Blue had this perfect moment that presented itself, but I have to wonder if it was only the perfect moment because he was ready. Maybe I need to wait for that moment, but then what if it never comes?

Why does coming out have to be such a thing? Why can’t everyone come out? Like, if it’s a big thing that I like guys, it should be a big freaking deal if someone likes girls.

I distract myself by writing back to Blue.

I don’t finish before Garrett gets here, so I don’t get him the note until Wednesday during Chemistry.

~ Bram’s POV ~

A soccer ball hits me in the head during soccer practice on Wednesday. Admittedly, it’s a very clever technique on Garrett’s part. 

We are doing a drill that requires an offensive player, in this case Garrett, to feint around a defensive player, in this case me, to pass the ball to Nick. If he gets through to Nick, Nick is supposed to pass it back to Garrett. My goal is to block him and kick the ball down the field as if I’m passing to a teammate. It’s kind of like the soccer version of monkey in the middle. The problem is, Garrett and I are too well matched, which means neither of us are getting very far. Almost all of our attempts at the drill end when the ball goes out of bounds. I think he got it to Nick once and I got it past him once. Both of us are annoyed. It doesn’t help that Nick is standing behind me, making comments about how bored he is. If I hear him say, “oh, that cloud looks like a lion,” one more time, I might join Garrett to help shut Nick up.

I recognize that this is a move that stems from frustration. That being said, it’s really unfair that he tells me he has a letter from Jacques just so I will be too distracted to block him. I don’t even notice that he passes to Nick because suddenly my heart is racing in a way that has nothing to do with soccer. For a split second, I am consumed by the knowledge that I’m finally going to hear back from Jacques. I miss being able to talk to him more often and it makes getting a note all the more special. I don’t hear Nick shout, “duck,” and the ball hits me in the back of my head.

It’s the strangest feeling, because my head doesn’t hurt… at first. I mostly feel like I should feel something and my eyes close instinctively. I try to open them, but something in me is resisting. And then it happens slowly. It kind of feels like this hot burning feeling that grows and grows and then makes me dizzy. And then suddenly, I’m sitting on the ground and I feel so disoriented. I’m having trouble remembering why I’m sitting down, and I’m trying to remember what just happened.

“I’m so sorry man,” I hear Nick say. He sounds like he’s far away. I feel someone put their arm on my shoulder. I don’t try to open my eyes to see who it is.

It only takes a minute before I stop feeling like I’m on a Tilt-A-Whirl, and the buzzing in my ears disappears. I finally open my eyes and see my coach crouching in front of me. “You okay?” she asks quietly.

I really think about the question. My head hurts, but it’s not so bad now that the initial shock died down. I nod.

She frowns. “Laughlin. Get him to the bench. You’re sitting out the rest of practice. And you’re going to monitor, okay? If you throw up or get dizzy, you’re going to a doctor,” she warns me.

“I really don’t think I have a concussion,” I tell her. I’d gotten one during a soccer match my freshman year and almost instantly, I’d felt it. It hadn’t been a particularly bad concussion, but it felt so much worse than what I am experiencing right now. I remember feeling so out-of-it when I’d gotten it.

She doesn’t look like she believes me. “You’re still sitting out the rest of practice,” she warns me.

“Can I do homework at least?” I ask.

She just gives me a frustrated look. “Are you really going to make me say that you can’t do your homework?” she asks.

I grin at her. “Or you can not say it. I swear, I’m fine. It just stings a little,” I tell her. “If that changes, I’ll stop.”

She walks away and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “smarty pants” under her breath. 

Garrett walks next to me until I sit down at the bench. He starts to run back, but I call out to him. “Can I get that letter?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? If you do have a concussion…” If I’m not mistaken, he looks a little guilty.

“I don’t think I have a concussion.” I feel like I’m starting to sound like a broken record. “Even if I did, you know it’s not your fault, right? I’m the one that got distracted.”

He shakes his head. “I knew it would distract you. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of the fact that you’re in love with this kid,” he says.

“You’re not taking advantage – ” I cut myself off as I fully process his words. “In love with?”

It’s so strange, because I expect to feel frightened or anxious, but I don’t. It’s kind of like Garrett just told me something that I’ve known all along, but I didn’t know I knew it until he said it. Does that even make sense?

Part of me wants to deny it, but the moment I think about saying that I don’t love Jacques, I feel my anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. My heart understands Garrett’s words to be true, even if my brain is grappling for denial because how is it possible to love someone you’ve never met?

It shouldn’t be possible, and it makes me feel almost childish to think that I may be in love. Yet, the warmth I feel and the way my heart pounds when I think of him don’t feel childish. The constant home Jacques has in my head and the way he makes me feel like I’m valued don’t feel childish. I may feel like I’m too young to feel this way, but that doesn’t mean I don’t.

Maybe it’s the fact that I feel like I can talk to him about anything or maybe that saying about distance is true and the slower pace of passing notes is making me long for him more. I think it’s probably a combination of those things and the fact that Jacques somehow makes me feel like I’m enough for him.

Or maybe there doesn’t need to be a reason. Maybe I just love him, and I don’t need to justify it to myself or to anyone else. Maybe I just get to feel this way.

I think Garrett says something, but I’m not sure, because I feel like there was just a seismic change in me and that’s all I can think about. I’ve never been in love before and this feels so significant. “Can you give me the letter,” I say in an attempt to change the subject. I want to keep this to myself until I’m ready to talk to Jacques about it. “You may have concussed me. You have to be nice.”

“You said you didn’t think you had a concussion,” Garrett points out.

“What’s that mom?” I ask. I squint my eyes and pretend that I see my mom instead of Garrett. I can’t keep a straight face and I feel a smile breaking out, despite my best attempt to stay composed. Garrett is the only one that I would do this with. Anyone else and I would never have made a joke about a concussion. I think it’s easier to be a little silly with Garrett because goofy accounts for about 90% of his personality.

“Geez Greenfeld,” Garrett says. He rolls his eyes and delves into the disarray that is his bag. I’ve offered so many times to help him get organized, but he doesn’t want me to mess with his ‘system’, if you can really call it that. He surfaces with a piece of paper folded into a tiny square.

“Thanks,” I say excitedly. I reach into my bag, which is not a chaotic smorgasbord of loose papers, worksheets, and pencils like Garrett’s, and pull out one of my textbooks and a loose piece of paper so I can start to write back to him once I finish reading it.

_ Blue, _

_ I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re crazy brave. I’m so freaking proud of you for coming out to your mom! I would hug you right now if I could. That’s so big. How did it go? _

_ It really got me thinking. Maybe it’s time for me to come out to my friends. Part of me wants to wait for them to create the perfect opportunity for me to come out, but that doesn’t seem fair to them. I just wish it wasn’t this big thing. Why doesn’t everyone have to come out? Why is it reserved for us just because we don’t like girls? I don’t like peas and I don’t have to make a big deal of announcing it every time I eat food. I know it’s not the same, but part of me wishes that it was. Is that really stupid? _

_ The dreaded, “okaaaay.” I remember how much I hated that, and it was always accompanied by arched eyebrows and a condescending little butthole mouth. I did it too. Everyone sucks in middle school. _

_ Omg. Noooooooooooo. Never. I mean… okay, I did a terrible rendition of Pop and Lock several times, but I’m more of a slow, depressing music person myself. At least that’s what other people have told me. I don’t necessarily think that Elliott Smith is all that depressing. _

_ I guess the girlfriend thing is a little hard to explain. They just kind of happened. Obviously, the middle school one was a disaster and was completely different. She just kind of told me we were dating, and it happened. In high school, we were friends and I found out they liked me. Maybe I was flattered that someone liked me and that’s how it happened, but we ended up dating. _

_ I was kind of a shitty boyfriend, so both of them broke up with me. It was pretty painless on my end, because I never really had feelings for them. I still feel really guilty about all that. _

_ Honestly though? I think the real reason I had girlfriends was that I was trying to convince myself I wasn’t gay. Or maybe I didn’t think it was permanent. I know; that sounds really stupid. _

_ I know what you’re thinking. “Okaaaaaaaaaaaay…” _

_ Love, _

_ Jacques _

Maybe I’m not the only one with love on my mind, because this is the first time he has signed a letter ‘love’. I’m sure of it; I would have noticed.

By the time practice is over, I’ve finished my note. I hand it back to Garrett and watch him walk away with it. There’s no taking it back.

~ Simon’s POV ~

I’m ecstatic when Garrett has a note for me on Thursday. I’m not expecting it because writing notes seems to take forever, and a one-day turnaround seems like a record for us.

“Thanks,” I whisper. “I really want to do something to thank you for this. Seriously. It’s a really big deal that you’re willing to pass notes back and forth between me and Blue.”

“You don’t need to.” Garrett looks so embarrassed.

“I’m not gonna like host a parade or anything,” I tell him. “But maybe dinner on me or something. You deserve it.”

“It’s nothing.”

I wonder if it would be weird to ask Blue if he has any suggestions for Garrett, because I really can’t let this go on much longer without doing something nice for him.

“All the same, thanks,” I say.

I procrastinate reading the note until I finish my homework that night. I know it’s childish, but I’m kind of afraid to read his response. I feel like I didn’t come off great talking about my girlfriends in my last note and then, without thinking about it, I signed the note love. I had a lengthy debate with myself about whether I should rewrite the note or take the risk and I decided to take the risk. I’m really hoping I didn’t screw this up.

I can’t delay it any longer or I know I’m going to lose sleep over it, so with Bieber draped over my lap, I open the note and read:

_ Jacques, _

_ I think you’re giving me too much credit. I’m not as brave as you think I am. It just was the right moment with her. It was weird, but she was really great about it. She mostly wanted to embarrass me and make sure I knew to use a condom every time, even with oral. I wanted to disappear through the carpet, but I guess all things considered, it went really well. _

_ It’s great that you’re thinking about telling your friends. The only thing I can say to that is, don’t rush yourself. When you’re ready to tell people, you’ll know. _

_ Everyone SHOULD have to come out. It’s not fair that it’s just us. I guess that’s kind of our homosexual agenda, right? _

_ I have to admit, I cracked and looked up Elliott Smith. You must really like him, because he inspired your email address, right? I listened to Waltz #2 about 100 times. I hope that doesn’t freak you out. It surprised me because it’s a sad song, and I didn’t expect it to remind me of you, but something about it does. It’s intangible, like I can picture you with headphones in, staring out a window, eating Oreos, and writing in a journal. Should I be looking for someone wearing an Elliott Smith shirt to try to figure out your identity? _

_ I can’t really judge you for the girlfriend thing because I get it. I didn’t want to accept it either and had a girl been interested in me, I very easily could have found myself in the same boat. It doesn’t sound stupid to me. _

_ Okay, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I want to plan a day to meet you. I know that the planner in me is showing, but it stinks how long it takes us to send notes back and forth. I don’t want it to be too soon, but I think I want to know that it will happen at some point. Almost, like it gives me a deadline, so I stop holding myself back and actually give myself a chance to like you in person. Does that make sense? I don’t want to make it seem like you’re my homework assignment or anything like that. Okay, I’m going to leave that there and see what your thoughts are. _

_ Love, _

_ Blue _

_ P.S. Okaaaaaaaaaay. (eyebrows, butthole mouth, etc.) _

I can’t believe I waited so freaking long to read this. He wants to freaking meet me! I’ve reread that last paragraph so many times, I have it memorized. It’s been a week since we started passing notes and he wants to meet. If I had known that’s what it took to get him to want to meet me… I wouldn’t have done anything differently. I don’t think I was ready to meet him until I almost lost him. Thinking that he was going to stop talking to me changed a lot of things for me.

I think it made me realize my feelings for him that much quicker.

Despite how late it is, I write back to him before I go to sleep.

And then. On Friday. The last day before the weekend. Garrett is freaking absent. I text him during English to make sure he’s okay – I feel a little bad about that because, yeah, I do want to know if he is okay, but I mostly want to know if there was a chance he might be coming in so I can give him my note – and he lets me know that he’s sick and is on his way to urgent care. And yeah, I don’t really blame him. He says he’s miserable and he’s totally entitled to a day off when he feels that crummy.

I just wish I didn’t have to wait to give him the note for Blue. Him being sick isn’t about me.

I’m practically desperate for a distraction and the most welcome one comes in the form of Leah inviting me to Waffle House. It’s just gonna be us, which actually sounds kind of great.

I love Abby and Nick, but they’re both in this really uncomfortable flirty stage with each other and it makes them kind of unbearable. Especially over the last few weeks, it’s gotten bad.

Leah follows me home after school, so I can drop off my car and then drives us to Waffle House. It’s really great. She’s obviously in a really freaking amazing mood because she lets me look at some of her drawings while we’re waiting for our food to come – I can’t even explain what a big deal that is. Leah is so possessive about her drawings, so this is a huge milestone.

We’re only there thirty minutes before Nick and Abby walk in. I instinctively wave when I see them, then look at Leah. I’m nervous that I’m going to ruin whatever good mood she’s in – she’s been super weird about Abby. But she shrugs and lets them join us.

I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the carefree environment around us – the product of a French fry food fight and endless corny jokes that have us in tears. Or maybe it’s that Abby and Nick aren’t being disgustingly cheesy and flirty with each other. Or maybe it’s that Abby and Leah are getting along which is a freaking God-ordained miracle. But I start to get this feeling. This feeling like maybe this is my moment. Maybe this night belongs to me, and maybe it’s my time to finally tell them.

And then the moment’s gone. Abby and Nick tell us they started dating a couple of weeks ago and they wanted to tell us now that they are going to be official. Leah and I pretend to be surprised, and Abby makes a joke about finding Leah a boyfriend and me a girlfriend. And I don’t laugh. Not even a little. Neither does Leah. In fact, she gets this pissed off look on her face, and I know she’d be storming from the Waffle House booth right now if Nick wasn’t in her way. “Woah. Did I strike a nerve there,” she asks uncertainly. She looks like she expects me and Leah to say we are on a date or something.

And I can’t do it. Something about the assumption that I’d want a girlfriend, an assumption that is completely valid given my dating history, and something about Leah’s expression. It’s not my moment. And the feeling of this afternoon is gone and all that’s left is this uncomfortable tension.

“No,” I say. My voice cracks, so I don’t think I sound very believable. “I don’t want to cut this short, but Leah actually has to get me home.”

Leah looks like I’m throwing her a lifeline and it takes her a quarter of a millisecond to catch it. “Yeah. His parents are doing a movie night tonight, and they’ll kill me if I have him home late.” She’s using a sugary sweet tone that she only uses when she’s supremely pissed off.

Nick and Abby look confused but let us out of the booth. I can’t even explain why I’m so upset. Leah, I get. I didn’t used to get it, but then during one of our summer sleepovers and amid a sleep deprived conversation, she explained it to me. She hates when someone makes her feel like there’s something missing from her life. It just validates all the insecurities she has that she’s not enough the way she is right now. It makes her feel so insignificant.

We sit in her car for a minute and I almost feel like this is my safe space. I love Leah’s car. It kind of smells like the inside of a grandma’s house - warm cookies mixed with floral candles, and it’s just messy enough to make me feel at home but not so messy that it’s hard to sit in. It’s so utterly her with art supplies, papers, and empty coke bottles scattered throughout the backseat. I see a pair of drumsticks and assume they are her mom’s or her mom’s boyfriend’s.

“Thanks,” she says quietly as she starts her car.

I shrug. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know.” Leah sighs. “I just hate that she’s trying to put us in a box.” And I get that. I really do. And I get that feeling again. Like maybe this is my time to get out of my metaphorical box. But Leah keeps talking. “It’s like… just because we’re not dating someone doesn’t mean we want to be dating someone. We can be happy alone.”

I bite my lip and look out at the road. “What if… what if I do want to be dating someone?” I ask her quietly.

I feel my heart pounding in my chest, and I don’t know how Blue did this. Leah’s grip on her steering wheel tightens. “That would be fucking fine,” she says grumpily. I sigh. Maybe it’s not the right time. “Sorry.”

I’m so surprised by her apology that it takes me a moment to say anything. “What are you sorry for?” I ask.

“If you like someone, I think that’s great.” I don’t know if she actually means that though, because her knuckles are white from how hard she’s holding her steering wheel. “I guess I just don’t want to be the only single person in our group. I don’t want to be the fifth wheel with Abby, Nick, you, and some random girl.”

I look out the window. “What if they’re not a girl?”

I watch as Leah slows down and slowly pulls up to the curb. “Shit. Really?” She asks. I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. What is there really to say? “I think that would be fucking awesome.”

I finally look over at her and she’s grinning. “Leah?” I ask. “I’m gay.” Saying the words out loud makes me so nervous that I start rambling to delay her reaction. “But you can’t tell anyone. No one really knows and I want to be able to tell them when I’m really ready. And I don’t know when that will be yet.”

“Of course, I won’t tell anyone. I think this is really great!” She says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it is. I guess I kind of expected the usual Leah drama, but I should have known. She’s the one that introduced me to Drarry. Of course, she’s cool with it. “Who is this guy you want to date? Do I know him? Does he know you like him? Is he gay too?”

The onslaught of questions surprises me. “I don’t even know him,” I admit.

She looks confused. “Care to clue me in Spier?” she asks. Her usual bitter tone is back, and I almost laugh at the familiarity of it. 

I’m not sure I want to talk about it at first, but once I start, it’s like a flood gate opens. I leave out specifics of Blue because, while I doubt Leah would figure out who he is, I don’t want to risk it. So, I tell her the basics. Like how nice it is to have someone that knows what it’s like to be in the closet. And how we seem to click in our notes and emails. And how he makes me feel like I’m not a complete mess.

We sit on the side of the road so long that a police officer pulls up behind us. He knocks on Leah’s door, and when she rolls down her window, he looks in suspiciously. I feel like he expects to see beer cans or marijuana scattered around. Instead, he sees two teenagers who are in a weird place between laughing and crying having a heart to heart.

“Is everything okay here?” he asks.

“Yep,” Leah says simply. “We’re just talking.”

“If you don’t live here, I’d recommend that you move along. You’re scaring some of the neighbors.”

Leah nods. “Of course, officer.” She’s using that sickeningly sweet tone again, but I don’t blame her. We’re probably the most harmless people on this planet. She rolls up her window and turns her car on. She waits for the police officer to pass us before she pulls out onto the street. “Fucking assholes. I can’t believe someone called the cops on us. Can’t they see we were having a moment.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Hey, thanks for being so cool about this.”

Leah shrugs. “There was nothing to be cool about. You just told me more about who you are,” she points out.

I’ve never loved Leah so much in my life. “You know you’re really freaking awesome, right?” I ask. She looks really uncomfortable. “And when we get to my house, you’re getting a hug. The kind that makes you want to run away. And you’re going to suck it up and deal with it because I love you, and you’re really freaking awesome.”

She tries to say, “not a chance,” but when the time comes, I get my hug. I feel so peaceful after that. I can’t wait to tell Blue about this.

~ Bram’s POV ~

Garrett has bronchitis. I feel bad for him because he keeps coughing so hard, he can’t breathe. He’s pretty miserable, but twenty-four hours after he’s put on antibiotics, I get to see him. I know it’s not a good thing that he’s sick, but it feels kind of nice to be able to help him. It makes me feel like he needs me as much as I’ve needed him lately.

He’s out of school Monday and Tuesday but is in significantly better spirits by Tuesday. It helps that he’s finished his fifth day of antibiotics and can go back to school. I hate to say this, but I’m almost going to miss Garrett being sick.

It’s kind of like things were before he knew I was gay. We joked around and watched movies and played video games that we’re both terrible at. Without the pressure of passing notes between me and Jacques, I feel like we’re both able to relax a little more. It’s while we’re in the middle of playing this weird game where we’re trying to escape from a mountain that I realize, things have been different because of me. Garrett hasn’t made it weird. He hasn’t been treating me any different. I expected those things and I kind of made them happen.

I feel like we needed a weekend like this so I could realize that and get myself together. 

I’m even able to hold myself together when Garrett gives me Jacques’ note Wednesday after school. It’s been a week since I’ve gotten a note from him and while I’m ecstatic to be able to talk to him again, I feel like I’m able to manage that a little better. Maybe I also feel a little more sure of Jacques now with my recent love epiphany.

I almost laugh when Garrett gives me the note before practice because he ‘doesn’t want to use it as a distraction’. Because of his bronchitis, Garrett is a little wheezy throughout practice. So much so that when we scrimmage, coach makes him sit out.

He asks coach if he can leave early, so he can start some homework with a friend. It kind of makes me curious, because Garrett has talked about the fact that he doesn’t feel close with anyone else. Not that he has to, but I’m surprised he wouldn’t tell me that he has a new friend. Part of me wonders if this new friend is Jacques. Maybe I’m reading into it too much, but that’s the only thing that makes sense for why he wouldn’t have even talked about this friend with me or tried to have us hang out together.

When practice is over, I grab my stuff and head to my car. I feel disgusting, but I put off showering until I’ve read Jacques note.

_ Blue, _

_ Yes. Yes. Yes. I honestly can’t write that quick enough. I would love to meet you! Out of pure selfishness, do you think mid-November is too soon? I know it’s only like three and a half weeks away and I don’t want to give anything away, but that would be freaking perfect for me. If that’s too soon, that’s fine. Tell me when. I’m ready when you are. _

_ I know that there’s other stuff in your note, but does anything else really matter? _

_ Love, _

_ Jacques _

_ P.S. Get ready for the longest post-script in human history _

_ Okay, I’m actually shaking right now. If my handwriting is illegible, that’s why. You’ve really inspired me Blue. I was going to give Garrett this note today, but then he was absent. And this kind of big thing happened. And I needed to tell you about it. I came out to one of my best friends tonight. I never would have done that if it weren’t for you. And she was totally cool about it. So thanks. Because you made me brave. I actually think I kind of made it this bigger thing than it was. The moment I told her, it was kind of like I took a leap of faith and once you jump, you can’t suddenly un-jump. Does that even make sense? _

_ I’ve also calmed down a little, so here’s what I would have written if I hadn’t gotten so debilitatingly happy reading your note: _

_ I’m going to say it again, because apparently you need to hear it again: you are so freaking brave. No ifs or buts.  _

_ I hope Ms. Every Time Including Oral told you that you shouldn’t even think about having sex with someone unless they’re really, really awesome. And they have a slight Oreo obsession. And are such a badass with their sentence fragments and hint dropping. _

_ I think it’s more like our homo sapiens agenda, right? _

_ You can look for someone in an Elliott Smith t-shirt, but it would be a waste of time. I almost never wear band t-shirts. It feels weird to me because I haven’t seen anyone live, and I feel like wearing a t-shirt without going to their show is like cheating. Now that you’ve discovered your love for Elliott Smith, you should go download “Oh Well, Okay” and “Between the Bars”. I’m just saying. And you're dead right about the headphones and the Oreos, but wrong about the journal. You’re probably the closest I come to having a journal. _

_ I have a weird, off-topic question for you. Do you have any suggestions for Garrett? I kind of want to do something nice for him with how great he’s been about passing notes back and forth between us. _

_ Not to change the subject, but one week until Halloween! Are you dressing up? I think I’m going with a costume that’s the perfect mix of simplicity and basassery. _

_ Love, _

_ Jacques _

November. Mid November. I play around with the words, trying to figure out how they feel. Does it feel too soon? Does it feel just right? I don’t know. All I know is I want to meet him so badly and if mid-November is special for him, then I think that makes it the right time for us.

~ Simon’s POV ~

Friday, Mr. Warner is just gone. I’m staring at the woman in front of us for a solid thirty seconds before I fully comprehend that Chemistry as we knew it was over. She tells us how excited she is to ‘delve into the world of chemistry’ with us and that she’s sure she’s going to learn as much from us as we will from her.

I know I should be happy that we have a real teacher again and that we’re going to start learning chemistry instead of just copying notes from a textbook, but this is really inconvenient timing. She couldn’t have waited a few weeks? My first thought is on how I can get notes to and from Garrett. I really think I’m starting to develop a bit of an obsession over Blue. It’s like I can’t think about anyone but him unless I try really hard. I’m pathetic.

When Ms… I wasn’t paying attention, so I don’t even know, turns her back to write something on the board, Trevor passes me a note.

I put it in my bag without so much as looking at it. I don’t know what kind of teacher this woman is. Is she a public humiliation or a pretend-I-don’t-see-it teacher? Is she going to let it slide or read it out loud? I just don’t know and I’m not willing to take the risk.

I do skip lunch. Because I’m hopeless right now, and I need to know if there’s a chance I’m going to meet Blue before my birthday. Plus, I’m hoping that I’ll be able to give Garrett the note at his Halloween party tonight.

_ Jacques, _

_ Now I’m the one that’s proud. That’s amazing! You can’t see me, but I haven’t been able to stop smiling because I’m so proud of you. This is kind of momentous, right? It’s one of the things that we’ll remember for the rest of our lives. I think what you said about the leap of faith makes a lot of sense. I know we’re lucky that we’re gay now and not twenty years ago, but you still never know. I’m still surprised by how easy it was to come out to my mom, but at the same time it was the hardest thing ever. It’s kind of like I knocked a wall down, you know? _

_ I also love the idea of the homo sapiens agenda. It’s evening out the playing field. Brilliant! _

_ Don’t worry, Jacques. I only ever think about sex with people who hide from their eighth-grade girlfriends on Valentine’s Day and eat copious amounts of Oreos and Reese’s. I have a very specific type. _

_ I don’t know what I’m doing for Halloween. I’m not really big into dressing up. When I was little, I was a superhero every year, but the last two years, my mom has had a work party on Halloween, so I’ve been the sad teenager giving out candy to happy kids. How about you? You’re going to be a ninja, right? The perfect mix of simple and badass? _

_ It’s probably cruel that I waited until the end of this note to answer your question, but I needed to be sure before I wrote it down. Yes. Mid-November works for me. Can I ask why it’s “freaking perfect” for you now? _

_ Love, _

_ Blue _

_ P.S. Garrett is obsessed with Blueberry Poptarts _

YES. YES! YES!! He said yes. I could fly. Like, literally. I’m not even convinced that my feet touch the ground the rest of the day. I feel invincible. I don’t even have it in me to be upset when Nora doesn’t know what a dementor is. Even though, how dare she? I seriously don’t know how we’re related sometimes.

When we get to Garrett’s he takes one look at me and confusion settles on his face. “What are you supposed to be?” he asks.

“A dementor,” I say. “Obviously.”

“A dem-what?” he asks.

My eyes get wide. “You haven’t read Harry Potter?” I ask. “We’ve been friends two weeks and this is the first I’m hearing of this travesty?”

Leah chuckles next to me. “You know you’re going to be subjected to a movie marathon now, right?” she asks.

Garrett laughs. “She’s serious,” I tell him. “All eight movies. In a row. Get ready. It’s coming.”

He looks concerned. “Right. I’m gonna get you drinks,” he says.

He turns away before Leah finishes saying that she doesn’t want a drink. Leah’s the designated driver, and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be drinking anyway. Neither of us love the party scene and the only reason we’re here is because Nick wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Garrett returns pretty quickly with drinks. “Two screwdrivers for the ladies,” he says. “And a beer for Spier.” He grins like he thinks he’s clever.

“You didn’t get anything for Nick.” I look next to me, but Nick is gone.

“He’s probably grabbing a guitar,” Garrett says with a shrug. “That’s usually what he does when he’s here.”

I accept the beer and take a sip.

Oh God.

This is… just the worst. How do people drink this? Why would someone willingly put it in their body? I mean, I knew it wasn’t going to taste like Oreos, but this is just astonishingly disgusting. Abby’s drinking her drink like it’s no big deal, so I take another sip and try to look like I’m not repulsed.

Nick comes back with a guitar, and he suddenly has a fan club. Leah and I end up retreating and finding a quiet place to sit. After a few minutes, the beer is growing on me. It was really gross at first, but it’s starting to make me feel warm all over. I start to drink it quicker and I’m surprised when suddenly my cup is empty.

I frown. “It’s gone.” I start to play with Leah’s hair, because I find it incredibly soothing.

“Exactly how much have you had to drink?” Leah asks.

She’s been with me, so I know she knows the answer, but I give it to her anyway. “One beer.”

“One beer. I can’t even begin to express how ridiculous you are.” She’s smiling, so I know she’s not upset with me.

Not as surprised as I am when Bram walks towards me and Leah. He’s not in costume; at least, I don’t think he is. “Do you mind if I sit here?” he asks.

I don’t remember ever hearing him speak, so I just kind of gape at him.

“Don’t mind him. He’s awash in the drunken glow of a single beer,” Leah says.

“Uh… one beer?” Bram asks uncertainly.

“I know. Ridiculous,” Leah says. “Feel free to sit. We’re just over here because it’s a little crowded over there.” I don’t think I’m the only one hearing the disdain in her voice.

“That’s why I’m here,” Bram admits.

“This doesn’t seem like your crowd,” Leah agrees.

“It’s not. I’m only here because Garrett asked me to come. Believe it or not, watching freshmen girls get drunk isn’t really a scene.”

Leah and I look at where he’s pointing and Jesus freaking Christ. “Is that Katniss?” I ask.

“Making out with a Yoda? Yes.” Leah and I have one of those moments where we just kind of laugh at nothing.

“But they’re so little. They’re babies,” I say. I genuinely can’t believe they’re drinking.

“They’re Nora’s age,” Leah reminds me.

“And she’s a baby.” I know that she’s not really, but I don’t think she’ll ever not be my little sister. Even though she’s only two and a half years younger than me.

“Nora’s a badass.” 

I scoff. “I am such a badder ass than she is.” I hear my words after I say them, and I can’t hold myself together. I think Leah laughs more at my laughter than at what I said.

Bram joins us as we laugh.

This is kind of nice.

After a moment, Garrett comes to check in on us. “Leah. Spier. Greenfeld.” I wonder if it’s weird that he doesn’t call Leah by her last name, but he calls us by our last name. “Do you want another drink?”

“Huh? Another drink? Uh… no. I’m good.” It’s not my plan to get drunk tonight and I think I might be a bit of a lightweight because I’m really feeling my beer.

Leah chuckles. “I’m the designated driver.”

“Greenfeld?” Garrett asks.

Bram shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Garrett wines. “What happened to living a little.” Garrett walks away without waiting for an answer.

“I better go stop him before he gets me something,” Bram says quietly.

“Wait,” I say. “Why aren’t you wearing a costume? It’s Halloween.” I feel like I almost sound hostile and I don’t understand why.

“The only thing I had was my soccer uniform and that didn’t feel right,” he explains. 

He walks away and suddenly I remember that I didn’t give Garrett my note for Blue. I make a mental note to do that later.

It’s close to midnight when Leah starts to get antsy. The hazy feeling around my brain subsided a little while ago, and now I just feel sleepy. Leah’s been letting me rest my head on her shoulder even though she usually hates physical contact like this. “I think we should leave soon,” she says softly. I stand up. “Where are you going?”

“I have to give something to Garrett before we leave,” I tell her. “And then I’ll round up Nick and Abby.”

“Oh right. A love letter?”

I roll my eyes at her. “Be right back.”

I find Garrett in the kitchen. Bram is still with him, but I don’t think it matters. As long as I don’t mention Blue, I don’t think Bram has a chance of even coming close to guessing what I’m doing.

“We’re going to leave soon,” I say quietly.

“Thanks for coming.” I expect him to sound drunk, but I think he spent most of his night making sure drunk people didn’t trash his house, so he sounds completely sober.

“I just wanted to give you something before I leave.” I pull the note out from one of the pockets of my dementor robe. I think I’m pretty subtle as I leave it on the counter. “Thanks. Really. I owe you.”

~ Bram’s POV ~

I’m frozen. I don’t think I could move if I tried. I definitely can’t take my eyes off of the little piece of paper Simon just left on the counter. I know the answer, but I ask it anyway. “What’s that?”

Garrett looks as surprised as I feel. He doesn’t answer me, but he doesn’t have to. If anyone else had been in the kitchen, nothing of importance would have just happened. But to me, it was monumental and life changing.

“What are you going to do?” Garrett is looking at me like he’s somehow responsible for what happened.

“I don’t know,” I say softly.

I feel like I’m still processing. Simon is Jacques. I’d had my suspicions, but I really wasn’t sure and now, it’s undeniable.

“You're smiling. So is this a good thing? Are you okay with this?”

“Am I?” I touch my face and sure enough, I’m smiling. I’m not making any active effort to smile. I think part of it is how relieved I am. Jacques could have been anyone. I’m also ecstatic that it’s Simon. I think part of me wanted him to be Simon, but I’d just watched him and Leah cuddle on a couch for a couple of hours, so I’d all but let go of the possibility that it’s him. I look at Garrett. “Am I an asshole if this doesn’t change anything? What if I still don’t want to tell him who I am yet?”

“That doesn’t make you an ass,” Garrett assures me. “It just makes you someone with a timeline.”

I close my eyes. “Thanks.”

“Go on.”

“What?” I ask.

“Go read the note. I’ll get everyone out and then you can help me clean up,” he tells me.

“I can wait,” I assure him. I actually feel like I need to wait because when I read the note, I’m going to hear Simon’s voice and I’m going to imagine Simon writing it. There’s a face to a fake name now, and I feel like I need to mentally prepare for how different that’s going to be.

So, I wait. I end up spending almost two hours driving kids home, including a few designated drivers that shirked their duties for the night. No one throws up in my car, so I’m counting it as a success.

I’m distracted the whole night. I literally cannot believe it. I half expect to wake up at any moment and find out that this was a dream. As my fatigue hits, I accept that I can’t be this exhausted if I’m asleep.

And then I’m wide awake because it’s real. Talk about knocking down a wall. I feel like Simon just smashed it to smithereens and now all that’s left is one of those window mirrors. I’m on the side you can see through and Simon’s still staring at his reflection trying to see through to the other side.

It doesn’t seem fair, but I still want to wait. I think that might make me the worst person in existence.

When I get back to Garrett’s, his house isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Part of that has to do with the fact that he’s been cleaning up the entire night. It doesn’t take long to scrub down the sticky surfaces, vacuum, and collect the scattered cups.

Pop music plays softly in the background while we clean, and Garrett hums softly to himself. I don’t recognize that it’s his anxious humming until he throws a paper towel in the trash and leans against the counter in the kitchen. He crosses his arms across his chest and looks thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking…”

“That’s never a good sign,” I tease.

He rolls his eyes. “I think you need to tell Simon you know who he is. Even if you don’t want him to know you. I don’t think it’s fair to him if you keep this to yourself. And I know what you’re thinking. He’s going to try to get it out of you, but I think you’re wrong. I think if you ask him not to press you for your name, he won’t.”

I look at him surprised. “You were worried that I wouldn’t tell him I know?” I ask surprised. He nods. “I was planning on telling him.” I look at the ground. “You know, he wants to meet me in a few weeks.”

“That’s huge!” Garrett is smiling big. “Are you ready for that?”

“It was my idea. Well, meeting was. Not the in a few weeks part, but I said yes to that. I just want to wait until then.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Garrett look so surprised. I don’t blame him. Usually, I would have been putting it off until the very last minute because I’d be too afraid to let Simon really see me. He whistles. “Talk about living life. That’s great.”

I smile. I almost feel like I’m drunk on this moment, which makes me feel like I can say what I’m thinking. “I feel like he makes me want to be brave. Is that weird?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never loved someone the way you love him. I don’t know what’s normal and what’s weird.” He shrugs. “Thanks for your help cleaning up. I’m gonna shower. I already put the pillows in the living room while you were driving people home and I’ll grab some blankets on my way down.”

“Thanks.”

I go to the living room and plop down on one of the couches. I finally open the note from Jacques… I mean Simon.

_ Blue, _

_ So, I need you to know that I try to be this super mature guy with you, but I can’t do it right now. You set me up too perfectly, and I’ve been silently giggling to myself since I saw it. Coming out to your mom was the hardest thing ever? I certainly hope not. _

_ I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. It’s your fault. Okay, moving on. _

_ Not a ninja, but such a good guess! No, I’m something that’s a little more badass than a ninja. When I was little, my sisters and I used to get really competitive to see who could make my dad laugh the most with our costumes. My little sister went as a trash can one year. Not Oscar the grouch. Just trash. I always went with the boy-in-dress angle which never got old… until it did. I had this amazing flapper costume, but one year, I just looked in the mirror and felt mortified. _

_ I’m glad you have a type. I think I do too. I think my type is incredibly brave, with a color for a nickname, and had a sexual identity crisis because of his stepmom’s cousin. I guess I have a specific type too. _

_ Of course, you can ask. My birthday is November 17th, and I just thought it would be really great if I could spend my birthday with the one person I really want to spend it with… Harry Potter. _

_ Just kidding. I mean you. I can’t wait to meet you. And kiss you. And do other stuff…  _

_ You know, like watch movies. What did you think I meant? ;) _

_ Love, _

_ Jacques _

I’ve just started writing back when Garrett gets back down. “Are you tired? Or do you want to put on a movie?”

“I’m fine with a movie. Are you though?” I ask. I feel like he should be exhausted.

He shrugs. “I think I had too much coffee right before the party. Hopefully I’ll crash soon.”

He presses a button on his remote and his projector turns on. It’s one of the reasons that Garrett’s house is the designated team bonding spot. Our entire soccer team can comfortably fit in here and watch a movie that projects right onto his wall.

I don’t know what movie he picks but once he turns the lights off, all the adrenaline that’s been coursing through me wears off, and I find myself crashing.

~ Simon’s POV ~

I’m a freaking zombie today. I spent most of my weekend eating our leftover Halloween candy and my nonstop sugar rush ended abruptly this morning. All I want to do is sleep.

English is the worst. Mr. Wise is going on and on about something. Probably a book. And then in Chemistry, Ms. Jenkins is going on and on about isotopes or something. I don’t even know.

I don’t feel like I’m awake until Ms. Jenkin’s voice pierces through my fog. “Something you want to share with the class, Mr. Lauglin?” she asks.

I look towards Garrett, and he’s frozen. His hand is partially extended towards Trevor and he’s holding a note. My heart starts to beat really fast. “Uh… no,” he says uncertainly.

“Well it must be really important if you have to interrupt my class for it. Let’s find out, shall we.”

It’s almost like she’s moving in slow motion. Garrett shoots me a panicked look and then suddenly, he shoves the note inside his mouth.

I stare. He… ate the note? I don’t think Ms. Jenkin’s knows how to respond either. She and Garrett have this weird staring contest that only ends when she gives Garrett lunch detention.

Honestly, I’ve never loved Garrett more in my life. He deserves way more than the box of blueberry Poptarts I have in my backpack.

After French, I walk to our Chemistry classroom. Garrett’s not here yet, but Ms. Jenkin’s is. I sit down at a desk without saying anything to her. I think she assumes I’m Garrett until she looks up. “What are you doing here?” she asks. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know my name yet, because I don’t talk a ton in Chemistry.

“It’s not Garrett’s fault that he was passing a note. It’s mine. I started it. If he gets detention, I should get one too,” I tell her.

I expect her to put up a fight, but she doesn’t. Garrett walks in and looks at me surprised. “You got detention too?”

“I’m just born to be bad,” I tease. I throw up peace signs and everything.

It turns out, you have to do homework in lunch detention. Ms. Jenkins gives us an absurd amount of work to do. I think it’s overboard, but I think she’s trying to prove herself or something. And she’s not mean about it, so we do our work.

When Ms. Jenkins lets us leave, I finally get to talk to Garrett. “Thanks. Seriously. You didn’t need to get in trouble for me,” I tell him.

He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

It is, but I don’t try to correct him. “Here. You skipped lunch, so I figured you might need these.”

His face lights up when he sees the Poptarts. “Thanks! These are the best.”

We’re both late for Algebra and Bram gives us a strange look when we walk in. Garrett doesn’t seem to notice and is dramatically explaining to our teacher that we’re late because we were imprisoned by ‘the man’. Whatever that means.

After school that day, my phone buzzes with a text message from an unknown number. Before I finish reading the first, another comes in. And then another. And then another.

_ Hey, it’s Blue. Garrett told me about what happened in Chemistry today. I asked him for your number; I don’t want to risk him getting in trouble again. Are you okay with this? _

_ I also need to tell you something… _

_ I know who you are… _

_ Don’t hate me. _

I stare at the messages on my phone. Did Garrett accidentally tell him who I am? I quickly respond.

_ I could never hate you. How did you find out? Are you okay with it being me? Does this change anything? _

_ Also, I freaking love the idea of texting you. So much faster than notes. _

I’m laying on my bed and I hear a scratching on the door, so I get up to let Bieber in. I start to go back to my bed, but he jumps in front of me and wags his tail. He whines and I know what he wants. “Do you want to go for a walk?” I ask. He barks the affirmative. He may not know much, but there were a few words he has ingrained into his vocabulary. Walk is one of them.

I grab my phone and Bieber follows me as I grab his leash. “Nora. I’m taking Bieber for a walk,” I shout.

“Okay,” she shouts back.

I text Nick once we get outside. 

_ Want to walk? _

I walk towards Nick’s house. He doesn’t answer, but I don’t expect him to. Ever since I got my first phone, he’s only ever answered if he can’t do something. And he loves Bieber, so he’ll jump at the chance to see him.

Sure enough, Nick is standing at the bottom of his driveway when I get there. I pass Bieber’s leash to Nick and Bieber pulls him along. Bieber loves it when Nick walks him, because Nick really lets Bieber go crazy. Bieber runs in a circle and at the last minute, when his leash is about to wrap around Nick’s legs, Nick jumps.

I can’t help but laugh. I’ve missed this. Nick and I haven’t spent a ton of time together the last few months and it’s really nice.

While we’re walking, my phone buzzes. Two messages come through, one right after the other.

_ I couldn’t be happier that you’re Jacques. Jacques a Dit, right? I’m really happy that it’s you and it doesn’t change anything. I’m still crazy about you, Simon. The only thing that’s different is that I have a face when I fantasize about doing ‘stuff’ with you. Watching a movie and the like, right? _

_ I’d rather not tell you how I found out, if that’s okay. I think if I tell you how I found out, you’ll know who I am. And I really want to wait. You only have to wait until November 17th, right? _

“You’re blushing. Who’s that?”

I freeze. I am embarrassed to admit that I actually forgot that Nick is here. “Oh… uh… it’s just… someone.”

“Okay,” Nick says slowly. He’s looking at me confused. “You don’t have to tell me.”

This really thick tension wraps around us. Like, I can actually feel it as it presses against me. We stop walking and Bieber lays down on the ground in front of us. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” I explain. “There are just some things that are hard to talk about. Because, I don’t know… I don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”

Nick squats down and pets Bieber. “Look, unless you’re sleeping with Abby or something, I think I’ll be fine with just about anything. Is this about you and Leah?”

“Leah?” I ask confused. What does Leah have to do with anything?

“The two of you just seem to be spending a lot of time together,” he points out.

“Well, that might be because someone is hopelessly in love,” I tease.

“Fair enough. So, there’s nothing going on with you and Leah?” he confirms.

“No.” In my head, I just kinda want to be like. I’m gaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. The thought makes me laugh because I don’t think I’ll ever say something in as whiny a tone as I just imagined that in. While I don’t want to say it like that, I’m surprised by how much I want him to know. There's part of me that’s terrified to put the words out there but that part of me is much quieter than the part of me that doesn’t want to keep this to myself. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you. It’s just… I’m gay?”

I’m looking straight ahead and waiting for him to say something. “Cool,” he says. He’s still petting Bieber. “Look, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I’ve never been good at stuff like this, but I think it’s fine… or great. Or whatever means that there’s nothing for me to have a problem with.” He looks so freaking uncomfortable, and I can see how badly he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. “Do your parents know?”

I shake my head. “Just Leah… well, and the kid that just texted me, but I don’t know his name yet. Long story. I don’t want to talk about it.” I realize, after there’s a long silence, that Garrett knows as well, but it seems too late to bring that up.

“Okay,” he says. “You don’t want to talk about that. Is there anything you do want to talk about?” I shrug. He stands up. “Whatever you need, just let me know. You’re still my best friend, you know. Nothing will change that.”

“Thanks.” We begin walking again. My hands are in my pockets and Nick is holding Bieber’s leash with both hands. It’s weird. It’s why I was scared to tell him.

I have no freaking clue what to say and when we get back to Nick’s house, there’s kind of this awkward moment where I don’t know if I’m supposed to ask for Bieber’s leash back or if I should wait for him to do something. “Do you want to get waffles?” he asks.

“Uh…” I’m caught off guard when he asks. “I could go for waffles.”

“I’m supposed to meet Abby for dinner, but I don’t want to stop here. I think if we stop here, things are gonna be weird forever. I mean, it’s not just me, right? It feels weird?” he asks.

I feel like maybe I should be offended, but I also know what he means. And I’m choosing to believe that he’s not saying it’s weird that I’m gay. “It’s not just you. I guess we’ve never really talked like this, huh? At least not without Leah.”

We’re walking again, this time towards my house. When we were little, we used to compete to see who could make the trip the fastest. My fastest time was just under 5 minutes. Like, we literally used to race to see each other. For a minute, I wish we were eight years old again. Back when Nick was so excited to see me that he’d meet me halfway. Everything was so carefree and easy then. We didn’t have to talk about the hard stuff, because there wasn’t anything to talk about yet.

“So, you know. Abby’s really big into anniversaries,” Nick says. I think he’s just as desperate as I am for the silence to end.

“Oh?” I ask.

“Our one-month is coming up. On Thursday,” he says quietly. “I have no idea what to get her.”

I can’t help but smile. It’s so utterly Nick how hard he’s fallen for Abby. It’s usually really uncomfortable, because he’s the kind of kid that goes straight from strangers to being in love, but it’s giving us something to talk about right now. “It’s your first anniversary. Put in some effort and do something homemade, maybe write her a song. She’ll love that.”

Nick gets that look on his face, like his mind is somewhere else. Probably on song lyrics. I drive us to Waffle House and when we’re in the parking lot, I ask, “can you let me tell her. Like, don’t mention it yet?”

“You’re going to tell her?” he asks surprised.

“It feels weird to have you and Leah know, but not her. Like I’m trying to keep it from her or something,” I tell him.

“Okay. She’ll be cool with it, you know.”

That doesn’t make me feel any less nervous. Except maybe it does. Because when I see Abby, the thought of telling her doesn’t make me want to flee Waffle House.

I kind of keep waiting for the moment to present itself. Like it did with Nick and Leah. But it doesn’t. At least, not until I’m anxiously thrumming my fingers on the table and waiting for an opening.

“Are you okay?” Abby asks. “I hope this isn’t uncomfortable for you.” She looks at Nick and I realize she thinks I feel like a third wheel. I hadn’t even thought of that, and now I’m wondering if I should have said no when Nick invited me. Maybe I am intruding.

“It’s not. The two of you haven’t made this weird at all,” I assure her. “Can I tell you something?”

~ Bram’s POV ~

It takes Simon hours to answer me and I’m half-convinced that he’s mad at me. That would be completely understandable. I am being utterly selfish right now, but I want these next two weeks to prepare myself for how everything is going to change.

I get his texts just before 10pm.

_ Sorry, it’s been kind of a weird day. I came out to my other two best friends today. I guess I don’t have to hide names anymore. It’s kind of like you said when there was this perfect moment to bring it up with Nick and it just felt right. I can’t freaking wait for November 17th. This is going to be the best 17th birthday ever! _

_ Please elaborate on the like… in detail ;) _

My stomach is a whirlwind right now. 

_ How do you feel now? That’s huge, right? That’s everyone in your friend group? I’m so proud of you! _

_ I think I’m just going to shut up about the like now. _

I shower quickly and by the time I’m out, I have a response from Simon. I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that we can talk this quickly now. I don’t know why I waited so long to text him. I don’t know why he didn’t demand this earlier.

When Garrett suggested it after school, because he didn’t want to risk getting in real trouble, I’d immediately thought of 100 excuses. But Garrett hasn’t asked for anything in exchange for literally being my only lifeline to Simon, so I felt like I needed to do it for him.

Garrett is a genius. I open the texts from Simon.

_ Yeah, all thats left is my family. I dont know though. They seem like the biggest hurdle for me. Like, I know theyre going to make this a huge family ordeal _

_ No need to shut up about the like. If its what I think it is. I think about it too _

I weirdly feel self-conscious. I think it’s because I know I’m having this conversation with Simon, but he doesn’t know he’s having it with me. At the same time, knowing he thinks about it too, makes me feel so incredibly special. And I know we’re talking about sex, nothing else would make sense.

Over the next week and a half, Simon and I never stop texting. I’m careful to keep my phone on silent when I’m in school because, while I’m pretty sure that he wouldn’t notice if my phone went off when he texted me, I can’t take that risk.

I feel like I soak everything up when we’re together. And by together, I mean when I’m sitting at his lunch table pretending like I’m not hopelessly in love with him. I’m trying to think of the perfect way to tell him who I am. So much so, that I think I almost turn it into this impossibly extravagant thing.

Then, the night before his birthday, Simon sends me a text.

_ I know you’re probably freaking out right now. If tomorrow is too soon, I can wait. I’ll wait as long as you need me too. But know, no matter who you are, I can’t imagine a scenario where I don’t immediately kiss your face when I see you _

_ That sounded a lot better before I pressed send _

_ Of course, I won’t kiss yuo if you don’t want me too _

_ *you _

_ I care about consent _

_ Ight, im gonna stop talking now _

I’m laughing at the pure Simon of the texts. I think he’s almost as nervous as I am for tomorrow. Except, he definitely has the easy part. I don’t answer him because I think I’ll be a complete rambling mess and I’ll save that for when he meets me tomorrow.

As scared as I am for him to know who I am, I am also ecstatic. I don’t sleep at all that night and it’s the pure power of adrenaline that propels me forward as I get ready for school. There’s a little gift bag for Simon that I plan on presenting to him and a little note that I’m putting in his locker asking him to meet me outside his locker during his lunch if he still wants to meet. I know he said he’ll be fine with who I am, but part of me can’t shake the feeling that he does have a choice to make. 

I get to school early and then spend fifteen minutes sitting on the couch in English class wondering how he’s going to take my note. I didn’t say much. I just signed it Love, Bram and now that I can’t take back the note, I’m wondering if I did the right thing by writing it down.

I’ve been staring at my knee so long; I miss that the class almost fills up. I’m not aware of much of anything until a note lands on my lap.

I look up in time to see Simon pick a desk in the back of the classroom. I know it’s risky, but I open the note.

_ I can’t wait. _

_ Love, Simon _

There goes my morning. There is no chance of me being even remotely focused. I don’t think my teachers know what to do with me because I’m usually a model student. When Ms. Dillinger calls on me in history, I don’t even know what the question is. I’m usually the person she calls on when no one else will participate, so I feel a little bad about that.

Lunch finally rolls around. I take a deep breath before I walk up to Simon’s locker.

~ Simon’s POV ~

He’s holding a gift bag. I can’t even. He got me a birthday gift. As if he’s not enough. “Do you know of anywhere we can go?” he asks. He looks so nervous; it’s so freaking cute I think my heart might actually jump out of my chest.

I actually do, so I nod and lead him to the auditorium. In the back of the auditorium there are locker rooms, but 99% of the time, these serve as storage closets for costumes for the play. There are a bunch of mannequins with random pieces of clothing thrown together.

We walk in, and I close and lock the door behind us. I kind of shuffle because I have no freaking clue what to say. I think this is the first time I’ve ever been at a loss for words with Blue, but it’s so different to think about finally talking to him face-to-face.

“So, you’re Blue,” I finally say. The tense silence needed to end.

“I’m Blue,” he agrees.

“Cool,” I say. I never, not in a million years, thought Bram is gay. I am so happy though. It feels like it was meant to be. “You’re quiet.”

“Now? Or in general?”

“Both.” I can’t take my eyes of off him. He’s been at our school for a year, but I feel like this is the first time I’m really looking at him. 

He shrugs. “I’m quiet around you.”

“I’m one of the cute boys that get you tongue tied,” I tease.

“You’re the cute boy,” he corrects.

And honestly, I’m practically jumping out of my skin because all I want to do is kiss him, but I don’t know if that’s what he wants because he never answered me yesterday. Instead, I say, “you got me a gift. You didn’t have to do that. You’re enough.”

Bram gets this small smile on his face, and I’m pretty sure I’m in love with that smile. It has this way of transforming his whole face. “I wanted to,” he assures me. He walks towards me and hands me the gift bag. I pull out an Elliott Smith t-shirt with a little note.  _ I’m sure Elliott understands you would have made it to his shows if you could have. _ I’m at an actual loss for words. We’d talked about it briefly and I hadn’t expected him to really remember that. “Do you like it?”

I don’t have words; I just have these overwhelming feelings. So, I stand up on my tippy toes and I kiss him. My brain catches up with me quickly, and I pull back. I can’t think well enough to remove my hands from the sides of his head, so we’re locked in this frozen silence for a split second, and then it’s like a switch flips. His hands rest at my hips and he grabs my shirt as if he needs it for support. He tilts his head just slightly, so our noses don’t bump like they did when I kissed him. And truly, this is magic. It’s everything and more. My stomach is going crazy, but in a good kind of way. It fills me with warmth and love. He brings up one of his hands to cover mine as if he’s afraid that I’ll pull away from the kiss if he doesn’t.

There’s no chance in hell of that. I mean, we do eventually break this kiss, because we have to. We’re in school and unfortunately, we can’t kiss forever. I don’t know how to explain it, but kissing Bram almost makes me feel whole. Like there was a part of me missing, and I didn’t know it until I found out who he was. Does that make me sound like a lovestruck teenage cliché? I don’t even care.

It’s like all my nerves evaporated when we kissed. We both take a seat, and I put my legs across his lap. And for the first time, we talk without using an electronic device or a note.

And it’s everything. He can’t second guess himself or spend time thinking about the perfect thing to write.

For two weeks, we focus on us. It’s complete bliss being with Bram and not having to hide our feelings. Even if we haven’t specifically told anyone we’re dating, it feels like we’re free now.

There is one hurdle in our relationship – I haven’t come out to my family yet. Bram keeps saying that he wants me to take my time and he doesn’t want to pressure me, but I don’t think he understands. The pressure isn’t coming from him. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be the “closeted” one in a relationship. He doesn’t know what it’s like to know that you’re the reason your relationship can’t move forward. The pressure I’m feeling doesn’t come from him; it comes from me.

He keeps reminding me that he hasn’t told his dad yet; I think it’s his poor attempt at making me feel better. But that’s because he doesn’t want to have the conversation over the phone. It’s freaking different.

And I can’t take it anymore. So, the day after Thanksgiving when we’re sitting out on the porch playing Scattergories, I know I have to do it.

We’re doing famous duos and trios, and Alice says “Alice and the Chipmunks” which has us all practically falling out of our seats laughing.

There’s this moment of peace only sporadically interrupted by laughter, and I know this is my moment.

“I can’t believe you have to go back in two days,” Nora says wistfully. I can hardly believe it either. Things have been so normal with Alice.

“Me neither,” I echo. “Actually, while we’re all together, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

All eyes are on me, and I’m staring at the ground. I’m doing this for Bram; I’m doing this for me; I’m doing this for us. I keep reminding myself of that. And it doesn’t feel wrong to tell them now. It doesn’t feel rushed. It feels inevitable.

“What’s up?” my mom asks. She’s been sitting on a bench with her head resting on my dad’s shoulder the whole night and she sits up straight. 

I don’t know how Bram did this. Two words and nothing will ever be the same again. For Bram though, I think it’s worth it.

“I know what this is,” my dad says. I feel my heart drop. I know what’s coming. It’s why it’s never really going to be my moment. “Let me guess. You’re gay.” There it goes. “You got someone pregnant.” Freaking hilarious. “No, no, no. I got it. You’re pregnant.”

That’s my dad for you. Any tense or serious conversation and he has to ruin it.

“Dad, stop it,” Alice says. She sounds annoyed.

I close my eyes. Behind my eyelids, I see Bram. I remind myself that I get to spend all day with Bram tomorrow. All I have to do is get this out. Except, what comes out is, “I’m pregnant.” And I kind of hate myself for that.

“I thought so kid,” my dad says. “You’re glowing.”

My mom puts her elbows on her knees and rests her chin on her fists. It’s her therapist look. I’ve seen it several times. She’s analyzing me, trying to figure out why I look so nervous. Well maybe this is why I’m freaking nervous. Because I don’t want to be the family project.

“I’m gay.”

“Honey… that’s… thanks for telling us,” my mom says.

Alice chimes in with a, “wow, Bub, good for you.”

My dad says, “gay, huh?”

Nora looks at me like she wants to say something but doesn’t know what that something is.

“So, talk me through this.” It’s my mom’s favorite psychologist line. All she’s missing is the clipboard she takes notes on and we could be in a session together. I shrug, because really, what is there to talk her through? “We’re proud of you.”

“So, which one of them did it?” my dad asks.

I look at him confused. “Did what?”

“Turned you off women. Was it the one with the eyebrows, the eye makeup, or the overbite?”

“Dad, that’s so offensive,” Alice says. 

“What? I’m just lightening the mood. Simon knows we love him.”

“your heterosexist comments aren’t lightening the mood.” That’s typical Alice.

I guess it’s really typical everyone: my mom’s asking me about my feelings, dad’s making jokes, Alice is getting political, Nora’s staying quiet. There should be comfort in predictability, but it just makes me exhausted and unhappy.

“I’m really tired. I think I’m going to go to bed,” I say quietly.

“Honey, I really think we should talk about this,” my mom says. She gets up so she’s standing between me and the door to the house.

I don’t know what it is, but suddenly, I feel like a trapped animal, so I turn and run the other way.

I’m no athlete and I get winded in an embarrassingly short amount of time, but at least I get to the corner of our street, and I don’t think I’m in danger of them coming after me. I take a minute to breathe and figure out what I want to do.

I wish I brought my headphones because I’d love nothing more than to drown at the world. Since I don’t have my headphones, I do the next best thing; or the better thing, if I’m being honest. I call Bram.

“Hey,” he says like the word belongs to us.

“Hey.”

“What’s wrong?”

“How do you know something’s wrong?” I ask.

“Because it’s 10 o’clock at night and you sound like you’re crying,” he points out.

Do I? I blink rapidly, and I’m pretty sure I’m not crying; I’m just shaken up. “I’m not crying. I just… I came out to my family,” I tell him.

“Oh.” The word hangs between us.

“It’s fine. They don’t have a problem with it.” At least, I don’t think they do. I think they were just reacting the way they always do when things change. “It was just overwhelming, and I wanted to hear your voice.”

I’m about to cross the street, but a car honks loudly at me as it runs a stop sign, and I jump back onto the sidewalk just in time. My heart is pounding. I feel dramatic thinking it, but I really almost got hit by a car. If they hadn’t beeped… with how fast they were going and the fact their lights were off; I don’t think I would have stood a chance.

“Where are you?” Bram asks. I can hear his concern. I look at my phone amazed. I need to see him. Now.

“I’m taking a walk,” I tell him. I don’t know how to invite myself over, and I definitely don’t want to make him come here. Then I realize it’s moot because I don’t have my car keys on me.

“I’m coming to you.”

“Oh… you… don’t… have…” I can’t even get the words out, because I want that so badly it makes my heart hurt. “Okay.”

“Mom, I’m going to go see Simon,” I hear Bram call. It takes less than a minute before I hear the soft hum of his car engine. The entire time, my heart is pounding. I can’t shake the adrenaline that’s been coursing through me since I heard that car’s horn.

While I’m on the phone with Bram, my mom calls me. I don’t answer her call, but I send her a text letting her know I’m taking a walk. I’ll talk to her. And soon. Because while half of my brain is thinking about Bram, the other half is thinking about how I would have left things with my family if I’d gotten hit by that car. I need to talk to them, and I need to be honest. I can’t keep doing this whole bottling-things-up thing. It obviously doesn’t work. Even as I think it, it seems impossible.

Bram parks his car on the side of the road before he joins me. “I can see you’ve made a lot of progress with your walk.”

We haven’t hung up our phones, so I hear him from my phone as well, almost like an echo.

I shrug. “I wanted you to be able to find me,” I tell him.

Bram hugs me tight for a minute and I feel so safe. I feel like uncomfortable conversations and bad drivers don’t exist when he hugs me. He kisses my forehead, and I swear I could float away.

“Come on. Let’s go this way,” he says. He doesn’t know it, but he’s walking towards Nick’s house.

We walk slowly with the tips of our fingers just touching. I tell him all about the conversation with my family. Somewhere along the way, in the safety of the night, he starts to really hold my hand. And then I tell him about the car.

“It’s weird,” I say. “It’s not like I think it was a near-death experience or anything like that, but… it really got me thinking. There are so many things I don’t say, because it’s easier to appease or stay in my safe, little bubble than it is to put myself out there. And there’s something I really want to say to you… I love… Nick?” I completely lose my train of thought as I see Nick walking towards us.

“You love Nick?” Bram asks. I point. “Oh.”

“What are you doing?” I ask uncertainly.

“Nora texted me. She didn’t think you should be alone, but it doesn’t look like you feel very lonely.” I follow Nick’s gaze and realize that Bram and I are still holding hands. I drop his hand like it’s burning me.

I should feel… what? Guilty that I hadn’t told Nick? Embarrassed that we were caught? I have no freaking clue what I’m supposed to feel.

“So, you’re Simon’s mystery crush, huh?”

Oh God. Can the concrete of the sidewalk just absorb me or something? 

Bram chuckles. “I guess so,” he agrees. A quick look at Bram tells me he’s not upset about this. “I guess you could say he’s my secret crush as well… or that we’re not-so-secret boyfriends.” He takes my hand in that only-fingertips way again. I’m never going to stop smiling. Seriously. It’s never going to go away, because this moment will never not exist again.

“That’s great. Really. I’m happy for you. Both of you,” Nick says. He looks uncomfortable for a moment. “You are okay though, right? From what Nora said… it doesn’t seem great.”

I nod and look at Bram. “I will be.”

Nick makes this sound that is a mix of a cough and a laugh. “Alright. Well, if you need to talk later, let me know. I’ll even let you call me.”

Now that’s a sacrifice. Nick hates talking to people on the phone. I think the only person he’ll consistently answer is Abby. “Thanks,” I say. 

I watch him walk away as Bram and I continue our walk. We round the corner so we can eventually loop back to my house. “What were you going to say?” Bram asks.

I frown, trying to remember. It’s such a big thing, I don’t know how I didn’t remember it right away. I stop walking and turn so I’m facing him. “I love you.”

His face breaks out into this huge smile. “I love you too.”

And then, it’s like a fairy tale. I swear, the streetlamp next to us turns off the moment we kiss. As if the universe itself wants us to have this moment just to ourselves.

When we break apart, I’m flushed and drunk on the moment. “We should do that all the time,” I say breathlessly. “We shouldn’t ever do anything but that.” I don’t think I’m making any sense, but he doesn’t complain.

“Okay.” He kisses me again. It’s too short.

“I’m serious. No sleeping. No eating. No homework. Just kissing,” I say. I know that there’s a part of my brain that controls reason, but that part is in hiding. The only part of my brain processing anything is the part that is in love with Bram.

He chuckles. We stand in that spot, all but invisible to the rest of the world. I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I talk to my parents or when the rest of the world finds out that we’re gay. I don’t know what’s going to happen when we go to college or in the many, many years that are ahead of us. 

I just know that I’ve never been so sure of anything as I am of Bram which fills me with hope for all of those unknowns.


End file.
